


Where the Ragged Ones Go

by arrowinthesky (restfulsky5)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst, Character Death, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt, Friendship, Hurt!Bones, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Plot Twists, Protective Bones, Protective Kirk, Protective Spock, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, Suspense, Thriller, Triggers, also, and even hurt!Spock if you squint, badass bones, domestic abuse, implied BDSM, protective!jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 95,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restfulsky5/pseuds/arrowinthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He liked to think he wasn't a weak man. Just...holding it together. For Joanna's sake."</p><p>On the surface, Leonard has it all. He's a respected surgeon, boyfriend to a beautiful, successful woman, and father to a teenaged daughter who loves him. Underneath, he's haunted by his secrets, burdened by his choices, and living with the very woman he's working to bring down. He'd loathe his life completely, who he's become, if it weren't for one man and his love. A new beginning is on the horizon, with Jim by his side. </p><p>But the wrong secrets resurface. His future swiftly darkens, and he discovers he can't trust anyone. </p><p>Maybe not even himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Shot for the Sky, I'm Stuck on the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please read this note first. Warnings to follow.
> 
> This story was inspired by two particular photos of Jim and Bones. It is also somewhat of an anomaly. I wasn’t expecting to be so inspired that I would literally write the heck out of this fic for days on end, losing sleep. I usually have difficulty penning a single chapter in a reasonable amount of time, but this story has been different. Be it that it’s hurt!McCoy or a different genre than I usually write...I don’t know. I’m apt to think it’s the fact that I’m writing it in present tense, which seems to be easier on my brain. At any rate, here it is. A new story. And - surprise - it’s plotted in its entirety and two-thirds written! I just finished Chapter 13 today. And it’s betad through Chapter 12! *DIES* I’ll be updating every day or every other day for awhile...and during that time I aim to finish the fic.
> 
> I waited to post anything for several reasons: some of the material contained in this story will be controversial, I wanted to cover my tracks with all the plot twists I’m writing/have planned, and finally, I have several WIPS right now and I didn’t want ya’ll to think I was yanking your chain. So, hopefully the consistent updating will make this a smooth read.
> 
> Due to the nature of this fic, I cannot tag like I normally would or give particular warning before each chapter. I have left off certain tags because they are too spoilery. Please note the warning and rating already tagged on this fic according to the rules and regulations of AO3!!!! This is a thriller and relies, very much so, on the element of suspense and surprise. However, I would like to point out that there are MAJOR TRIGGERS that could be in EACH CHAPTER. If you are sensitive to triggery material, PLEASE STOP NOW AND DO NOT CONTINUE! I am very serious about these warnings - do not continue if you are easily triggered. I am sorry for my “shouting.” I just want to make sure I’m covered, you’re covered, and this fic is covered. Please be responsible! I will state for the record that, any domestic abuse (implied or otherwise) does NOT take place between Jim and Bones.
> 
> Dear Junker5 and Diamondblue4, I am so appreciative of you both for betaing, offering awesome moral support, and giving me great inspiration with your comments. THANK YOU! *HUGS* Also, thank you to Heavenly Bodies for the inspiration for this fic, to Starsinger and Redford for encouraging comments on the first few rough drafted chapters, and Xero Xiiva for sweetly listening to a little about this story. :-)
> 
> The title for this story was inspired by the song “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel,  
> but I’ve been listening to the version by Mumford & Sons.
> 
> When I left my home and my family,  
> I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers  
> in the quiet of the railway station,  
> running scared, laying low,  
> seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go,  
> looking for the places only they would know
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. :)

 

“You’ve been staring at that man for five entire minutes, Leo,” Jocelyn hisses in Leonard’s ears.

He should answer her but his gaze doesn’t waver. The well-dressed blond man on the other side of the boat is better than anything else he could stare at at the moment. Besides, something about the way the man is carrying himself screams that he isn't well, that it isn't merely a bout of sea-sickness.

“It’s a ferry boat. A small one,” Leonard mumbles. “Behind him is the only view I have of the water. Where else do I have to look?”

He’s right about the man, who gulps and grabs the railing to steady himself.

Jocelyn huffs beside him. He continues to peruse the stranger, wondering what he’d been so focused upon across the waters. There is only so much to hold one’s attention on this side. Factories. Housing best left to destruction. Families that need protection from the likes of Jocelyn. On the surface, Jocelyn Darnell is a business woman, politician, and money monger all rolled into one who also sat in on meetings with the mayor. The commissioner. Hell, anyone and everyone who has a say on how to run this city.

It's a good thing his parents both died over a decade ago, never to see their beloved home slowly decay. Only thing is, as soon as they'd died, Leonard’s life had also slowly unraveled.

“I should take Joanna and leave for awhile. We’ve never had the chance to bond much. You only care about your job, Leo. And I’ve warned you,” she threatens. “And now...you stare at him. A stranger. I can’t take anymore.”

The jab misses his heart, the one thing Leonard never let her have. She may have owned his body for years, and even his mind, but never his love.

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from replying in arrogance.

“He's sick,” he says quietly instead.

She wrinkles her nose. “Him? He's probably seasick.”

“No, something’s wrong,” he replies. Though the visible symptoms were minimal, he knows in his gut it is true. “It isn't the water.”

“Leo,” she whines. It sounds childish. Even for her. “I can’t take anymore.”

Leonard can’t roll his eyes without receiving an earful on this very public, unusually crowded boat, so he shrugs his shoulders and turns to her. His girlfriend of five years. A gorgeous woman. If one liked her pixie cut, the pouty lips, and the domineering attitude and presence that had worsened over time. She was only warming up. If she continued spouting off at him, it could cause a scene. Ruining careful planning. He couldn’t mess this up.

How he’d lasted this long in their relationship, he’ll never know. He could only dream of waking up in his own bed. His day his own. Not hers. Not the hospital's. Just...his.

Almost his.

“I’m yours, baby,” he breathes in her ear, leaning his body over hers, shielding her from those around them.

He isn’t afraid to show his protective side with her, as long as he manages to act somewhat humble in the process. Humble. The way she liked him. He’d finally understood this about her after being stripped of dignity in private again and again. He has recent bruises to prove it, like usual.

He liked to say he wasn't a weak man. Just...holding it together. For Joanna’s sake.

“I’m just...I almost lost a-a patient t-today,” he stutters for affect. “I can’t, Jocelyn,” he also whispers. “Not after...af…”

His voice is gone and he closes his eyes. Her hands touch his face as it dips down, chin nearly to his chest. Moments like these make him wish she was as perfect as she wanted to appear to be.

“There, there,” she croons.

Leonard sighs into her arms. He leans his head on her shoulder, watching the stranger again. He narrows his eyes as the man’s hair falls across his forehead and his eyes cloud over. The man pales, a sickening hue against the backdrop of ocean-blue and colorful coats.

The stranger is going to fall over. Leonard lifts his head, wheels churning in his head.

She notices, and pushes him away, snapping. “Don’t bother coming home—”

Leonard inhales sharply as the man slumps to the ground.

He moves like a cat, like he used to years ago, shoving people aside, Jocelyn hot on his heels.

“Move!” he yells, surprising even himself.

He kneels beside the stranger, annoyed that a manicured hand pulls at his shoulder. That no one else is helping or seems to care.

“This isn't your problem,” she urges.

The words ring with some truth but Leonard ignores her and feels for a pulse. Before his hand reaches for the blonde’s neck, he sees that the man can hardly catch his breath. He’s laboring for oxygen but stares up at the sky, his eyes slivers of pure blue.

“I don’t see any other doctor around, do you?” Leonard barks at her, using the tone he reserved for idiots in the field.

He doesn't look back at her but he's chilled by her reaction, nonetheless.

The man blinks slowly at his voice, shivering once.

“Hey, it'll be okay,” Leonard says tenderly to him.

Jocelyn’s nails dig into Leonard, breaking the skin and leaving additional evidence of her displeasure. He looks up at her and not down at the stranger, who has more wrong with him than he could treat with water or a cloth. But he asks for those, anyway.

“I need water. A cloth of some sort,” he says, jaw clenching. He jerks his head towards land. “And the boat to turn back and go the other way. It’s closer to help. And a damn hospital.”

She blinks at him, possibly unnerved that it is not her doing the ordering, but him. They draw almost every eye towards them as they stare at each other and waste time, the man on the floor of the boat quite ill.

“He’s very sick, Joce,” he urges again, this time softening his tone. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll take the other job.”

He isn't going to let their dysfunctional relationship get in the way of helping someone. He has an oath to uphold. She wants him at a nursing home, stuck at a desk. If that’s what it took…

He could possibly bear the job for a year until she changed her mind, again. At least, that’s what he’d tell her if she asks.

“Fine,” she grits, turning her head so fast he hears the crick in her neck.

She shoves her way through the crowd and towards security. Maybe even the captain, himself.

But he loses her as a row of people return to their awkward stance, blocking the view. Leonard could only hope for a few minutes without her breathing down his neck. They need this time. He feels the urgency in his chest as it tightens. It is now or never.

He palms the man’s forehead, _angerfearfrustration_ stirring when Jim doesn’t respond to the touch. He scowls and slaps the cheeks of the man who’d screwed up his life.

Jim startles, blinking his eyes quickly. He doesn’t immediately focus on Leonard, which scares him. This isn't part of the plan. Jim is always focused when in the field.

“Stay with me, sir,” Leonard calls loudly. “You fainted.”

But Jim doesn’t stay with him. Fighting panic, Leonard leans down as close as he can without drawing even more suspicion.

“What the hell, Jim,” he whispers. “You shouldn’t be having symptoms like these.”

It's supposed to be a simple extraction. Jim just ill enough to draw the right amount of attention.

“Drugged,” Jim finally croaks. “Drugged...myself.”

Leonard suppresses a scowl, Jim peering at him through heavily-lidded eyes. It figures. The idiot goes above and beyond what is necessary every time. Maybe it does look real, even real to Jocelyn, who has her own facade. But it's dangerous. It makes things more difficult. More precarious. They have no get-away car. In fact, right now they're surrounded by ocean.

They have to swim.

Wet suits are stored within arm’s reach, hidden under a loose board, ready for when everyone got off of the boat except them.

“I thought you guys were smart,” he says softly, heart yearning for time alone with him again.

He cards his hand through Jim’s hair without a second thought, wanting to shake some sense into the man.

When Jim had told him he was a Special Agent, there to put Leonard and Joanna both in witness protection, it should have rendered Leonard speechless. It hadn’t. He had his own secrets and put on the mask of a surprised lover.

Jim was hot-headed. Definitely not a rule follower. He wasn't always graceful, either, and occasionally showed up as a patient. Though those times were carefully planned meetings between them.

“W-won’t l-last. Lo-love y—” Jim stops and swallows, only to choke.

“Don’t talk that way. You’re gonna be just fine,” Leonard orders softly, cutting him off. “Save your strength.”

He cradles Jim’s head on his lap, elevating his head. The sweat pours off Jim’s neck, dampening his pants. The blonde reaches up and weakly grips his forearm. His eyes plead what he cannot say. They’d lose precious time if Jocelyn didn't manage to convince the authorities to turn around.

Ironically, that would be the very thing that would set Leonard free.

It's brilliant, and he wishes he’d thought of it first. But, he's a doctor. And because of Joanna, only a doctor. Jocelyn has eyes everywhere.

“He’ll be okay,” Leonard says, lying through his teeth. He glares at the passengers who seemed even more interested in the sick man. “Nothing to see.”

Jim moans, and not just for show. The vomiting is real and Leonard turns Jim’s head just in time.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, carefully guiding Jim’s head back on his lap. “Ya think you ate something you shouldn’t have?” he asks loudly, eyeing one particular man in a trench coat who refused to respectfully avert his gaze.

“Spo…” Jim mumbles the unintelligible word, trailing off before Leonard could understand.

“Jim,” he urges quietly.

But Jim closes his eyes, listless, as if to conserve what energy he did have for later. Leonard wants the damn boat to dock already, for the chaos to ensue, distracting everyone.

“Here.” Jocelyn kneels beside him, holding out the cup to Jim’s lips.

Leonard tries to not show his surprise. After all these years, he should expect this, that she’d be two places at once. An enemy agent at the top of her game. She works faster than anyone. Daresay, even faster than Jim.

But if she recognizes Jim, they were sunk. Granted, Jim has a faint beard this time. Leaner face. Longer hair. No sign of facial scars. And those eyes. Leonard's never seen them so blue before. Longing stirs in his belly and he scowls, angry at himself for getting distracted.

“Just a little,” he says, pulling the cup away from Jim’s lips and her hands. “Not too fast.”

She sees Leonard’s sour expression and laughs a little. “It’s amusing to see you...at work.”

“I’m not at work,” he almost sneers. If she only knew. “There is nothing I can do for him besides make him comfortable and try to keep him from getting dehydrated.”

She stands and looks dismissively down at Jim. “What...heart attack?”

“Food poisoning,” he lies. “That’s what I surmised from what little he said.”

She sighs and turns her head, another dismissal. “And you’re not moving him because…”

The question dangles. It’s meant to be condescending but he has an answer. “You really want to help me get him to his feet and drag his body over to a seat that would barely fit all of us?”

He’d have hell to pay later for countering her like that, but he doesn’t care now. He'd be long gone, riding off into the sunset with Jim.

Leonard peels Jim’s eyelids back to find his pupils enlarged. Jim's also running a fever, but he's trembling from head to toe like it's mid-winter. Leonard looks down at the blond’s mouth, spying redness at the corners that hadn't been there before. He carefully takes Jim’s hand in his own, taking his pulse for a second time, also inspecting his fingernails. The same redness is there, too. Jim suddenly stiffens in pain, his other hand digging into the hard floor underneath him.

“Sir,” he says sharply, to keep his attention. “Did you take something?”

 _Something other than you were supposed to?_ he wants to ask.

Unresponsive, Jim’s eyes glaze over.

“Hey, I need you to stay awake, alright?” he asks firmly, giving him a gentle shake.

Jim’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Dammit,” Leonard breathes.

Something isn't right. No longer Jocelyn's play thing but a doctor and damn good at his job, Leonard carefully moves out from under Jim, setting his head on the floor and scooting down to listen to his chest.

He’s aware that Jocelyn is watching his every move and tries not to cling to Jim in his fear. Something is attacking his system. Not the usual drug they’d use in a situation like this one. In fact…

Leonard’s breath hitches. Chris had said they’d been working on changes to a drug. Jim himself had pushed for it. A particular drug that slows the heart down enough to look like death warmed over. Only, the way to get there is like experiencing hell itself.

Unconscious and burning up, Jim is more than halfway there. But what lasting damage this could do to him, he couldn't be sure. The drug doesn't have enough test subjects.

Fuck. There's a reason why they aren't lining up at the door, even though the drug has been tested in the laboratory. It's volatile. One agent had lost their hearing, another had lost a leg. In some, it causes clots to form. Others demonstrate symptoms of neuro-toxicity.

And that's why everyone wants it but no one wants to use it. It's dangerous. And nameless, other than a number. #381.

Unbeknownst to Jim, Leonard had read absolutely everything that'd been logged about the drug. He’d even memorized it all. There is no ‘antidote,’ only rest and time.

Dammit, Jim.

Leonard breathes out forcefully through his nose. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for, not recently, anyway. Not #381. He’d suffer under Jocelyn’s rule for an eternity if it would prevent Jim from getting hurt. Even if meant Leonard being under lock and key the rest of his life.

But...that negates everything Chris Pike had asked Leonard to do. And that doesn't make a lick of sense.

He closes his eyes in resignation, forgetting that the enemy stood one foot away. He only knew this. That Jim Kirk was gonna die.

Nearly.

And nearly is enough for him to screw the plans and protocol and do it all his way.

Yet despite what he feels for Jim, Leonard could never dare cross Chris. He wonders humorlessly if his cover has finally gotten to him. If Jocelyn had indeed destroyed anything left of what he’d once been. Someone...like Jim. A man who saw life with rose-colored glasses. A man who had an unmatched drive, a brilliance to move his entire team forward.

When he imagines a new life, Jim is in it. But so is the Leonard McCoy before he’d gotten himself into this mess. If Jim couldn't stop this type of reckless behavior, if he didn’t have the ability to restrain himself, stop trying to prove something...could Leonard go through with this at all?

“What is wrong with him, Leo?”

The familiar voice snaps him to attention. He can’t hide his surprise this time, having been too introspective for his own good. A mistake, for Jocelyn is watching him closely.

“He’s very ill,” he says swiftly. “And I can’t do anything for him here, not yet.”

“This better not take long,” she says in warning. “You’re not going to follow him to a hospital, are you? I know you, Leo. You probably think he’s your patient now that you’ve checked his pulse. God, I can just see it. You’ll want his complete medical history, the name of his third grade teacher, what he had for breakfast the first day of kindergarten.”

Leonard opens his mouth to give an excuse she’d surely see through—but he hesitates. A change of plans or another coincidence—it doesn’t matter. He sees movement in the corner of his eye.

The approaching ship’s horn is music to his ears.

Jocelyn sighs, gives him a look of pure disgust. She hates when their plans are changed, and their quiet afternoon was certainly delayed by this...inconvenience.

But when he glances back down at his lover any hope he had crashes to the floor. The promising sound of the horn fades in the background. His ears roar, his vision tunnels, and nothing in his life would ever be right without him. Even if they did give Leonard and his teen-aged daughter a brand new life far from Jocelyn, a spy who manipulates the world around her for her own criminal purposes.

Nothing would be right if the very person who had torn his life apart in the first place was gone.

Because at that second, Jim’s body practically lifts off the floor, convulsing.

“Leo, what’s happening to him?” she whispers, eyes wide.

He can’t answer her. Jim is dangerously foaming at the mouth, thick saliva blocking his air passageway.

This is not what they’d planned.

“Move back, Jocelyn,” he orders sharply. He turns Jim on his side the best he can, a futile attempt to prevent him from choking on his own saliva and tongue. “ _No, dammit…_ ”

“Leo—”

He doesn’t answer. He’s on autopilot, the doctor, the healer. Jim’s body is reacting like he’d overdosed. But that couldn’t be right. Jim is a responsible agent. He wouldn’t kill himself. Neither would he change their plans without telling Leonard.

Jim’s body stills but before he can check for a pulse, he begins seizing a second time. Leonard isn’t ready. He’s not ready for the chaos. He’s not ready for the realization that this had been foul play, the dosage tampered with.

He isn’t ready. He’s a damn doctor and he can’t clear Jim’s mouth of the saliva no matter how hard he tries.

His hands are hovering on Jim’s cheek when the younger man stops breathing.

Willing this to be a nightmare, Leonard checks Jim's pulse.

There is none.

Scarcely breathing, he stares at Jim’s beautiful face and everything around Leonard stops, too.

He comes back to himself after a few seconds and moves Jim on his back. He covers his mouth with his own, this time not for a kiss. He’s blowing air into his mouth, someone else kneeling beside him to start chest compressions. He meets the stranger’s eyes briefly. He nods and they begin.

It goes on for minutes but resuscitation doesn't work. No matter how long he tries, he fails. The stranger shakes his head, but Leonard isn’t ready to give him up.

He slams his fist on Jim’s chest in desperation. “Dammit...don’t die on me.”

“He’s dead, Leo,” Jocelyn chants in his ear.

He ignores her and pounds his chest again, nearly falling apart at the seams, his heart falling silent before it even started to weep.

“No…” He muffles a gasp, can hardly unclench his fists from around Jim’s lapel fast enough before Jocelyn realizes his attachment.

His hand shakes as he pulls it away from Jim’s chest.

“J—” He chokes on a sob, cutting off Jim’s name.

A brilliant smile flashes before him, the memory of Jim’s laughter washing over him as they shared a kiss at the hospital. He feels the warmth of Jim’s breath on his shoulder, the love bursting in his chest from just looking at him.

But, it’s all too late. Too fucking late.

“Sir, you’ll need to move,” a medic orders him.

Leonard is pushed aside, the stranger is pushed aside, and the emergency medical team hovers around Jim’s body. But it’s no use.

He’s gone.

“Leo, let’s go,” Jocelyn murmurs, acting like the concerned girlfriend she never was nor could ever be.

He almost flinches from her touch when she grabs his arm to steady him. He feels the curl of her fingers, the sharpness of her nails reminding him that he belongs to her.

“There's nothing more you can do,” she insists. “It’d be better for you to leave. You’re stressed enough at your own job as it is to be involved in this, Leo. Leave them.”

They’re like bees swarming around Jim, but nothing they do actually fixes him. He doesn’t look at her. He’s looking at him.

And simply wants to wake up from this nightmare.

One medic shakes his head to another. “Call it.”

He’d already considered himself almost dead, his life with Jocelyn killing him slowly. He might as well join Jim in the coffin. Being buried alive would be better than _this_.

“I need to stay,” he says in monotone, knowing full well his behavior on the ferry meant she’d punish him later. “Tell them exactly what happened.”

It's the closest thing to an excuse he can come up with to stay a few seconds longer beside Jim’s body

Revenge stirs at the back of his mind, the revenge he’d kept close for a lifetime. It reminds him of the job he has to do. He allows himself to feel the anger. He manages better than he thought he would as the years of training kicks in.

He doesn’t have the luxury to even act as if this man had been a friend. He holds his grief at bay because he can’t afford to do anything else.

“I’ll wait for you at the car,” she says stiffly.

They lead Jocelyn away like the others on the ferry. Surprisingly, she goes without a single protest. She leaves before Leonard’s rage gets the best of him and he becomes the person he’d been before he’d even met the woman. A man who’d been a distant memory for over a decade.

“You did everything you could, sir,” the medic says as he passes him by. “I’m sure his family will be grateful.”

Family.

Jim _is_  his family.

Leonard blinks as they place his lover’s body on a gurney. His heart bursts in pain when they fail to see Jim’s arm dangling over the side like a broken doll. A marionette with clipped strings.

But he can’t go to him and fix it for himself. Jocelyn arches her neck in the crowd ahead and looks back. Her eyes assume too much, already.

He forces himself to take a step away from the dead man he’s not supposed to know, let alone make love to each week. He hates himself as he turns his back on Jim and follows the trail of people off the boat.

This shouldn’t have happened. His heart hardening, Leonard vows to find the ones responsible. In fact, he’d start with Chris Pike and demand answers. From there, he’d find the one responsible for making the damn drug in the first place and force him at gunpoint to destroy every record of the cursed substance. Then he’d blame himself for not doing what he should’ve done—take charge of the mission from the very beginning. After which, he’d punish himself like he deserved.

Because Jim—the single, most beautiful and hopeful part of Leonard's life, the reason he was standing up for himself, the reason he hadn't fallen victim to his own despair, the only reason he was trying anew—would never smile at him ever again.

And Leonard had had all the power in the world to prevent it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leo. :( You have questions, I have answers. Maybe. I will post again soon.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr again. You can find me here, as arrowinthesky. Feel free to follow me and I will gladly follow back. :) I will be posting pics for this story and also updates. Thank you, again, for reading. And, if you review, I really appreciate the support! Until next time!


	2. I Was Born in Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you are ready for the next part to this twisty ride. :) 
> 
> Huge thanks to Diamondblue4 and Junker5 for graciously betaing this story, also for critiquing and giving positive reinforcement. *HUGS THEM* All remaining mistakes are mine. :)
> 
> Don't forget, the same warnings I posted for Chapter One apply here, too. Now, not all the chapters are triggery, but I can't elaborate which ones or why.
> 
> Enjoy.

Leonard leaves home the first chance he gets. Eight and a half hours after Jim Kirk breathed his last.

Fate is cruel. He’ll never get to pay his respects. His world operates on a different level than others. The extraction had gone south, leaving Leonard to his own devices until Chris chooses to contact him. He’ll be lucky to even know where Jim is buried.

His pager beeps for a third time. Jocelyn looks up at him from the computer on her lap. He’s sitting in a chair lower than hers, rubbing her feet. He usually answers more quickly than this but tonight he can't think of anything but the sun that had vanished from his life.

“Are you going to answer that?” she asks in a condescending tone. “Or are you enjoying your place too much, Leo? I wouldn't mind if you ignored that message and worked on my shoulders next.”

Should he even care what happens at the hospital tonight? Can he care?

“Yeah, I'll answer it,” he says, voice rough from disuse.

He sets her feet gently on his lap despite her pout and looks down at the number because if he doesn't, his cover will crack. If it hasn’t begun to crack already.

He cares about the call for Joanna’s sake. For who else was giving him reason to live? Who fucking else?

“Who is it?” Jocelyn asks, though unnecessarily.

Predictable and dull. This is his life and she knows it. He gets called back into the hospital as often as any other capable surgeon of a small hospital would. She doesn't have to question anything. She doesn't have to make illogical demands either. This is just ammunition that she’ll use to degrade him with later.

The number blurs before him. All he sees is #381, though that’s not what is flashing across the screen.

“I have to go,” he said, also unnecessarily.

“Leo,” she says sharply.

Dammit. He’d nearly forgotten her earlier request. “May I massage your shoulders later tonight?” he asks humbly.

“Of course.”

“Dad?” Joanna says softly from the couch, setting aside her math homework.

She attends a boarding school for the gifted but is home for the weekend, her extraction forfeited, as well. He hates to be apart from her but he works too much or is otherwise occupied by Jocelyn and her….demands. He wants Joanna to be cared for, away from Jocelyn as much as possible. The school is for his peace of mind as much as it is for Joanna’s safety and happiness.

“Can we go the beach again tomorrow? Your day off?” she adds.

He smiles at her, haunted by the empty seat beside her, the place he'd imagined Jim filling for so long. “Sure, Kid.”

She beams at him, looking seven not seventeen, the nose and tongue piercings shining at him, too. The piercings and the purple layered and spiked hair are still new to him, but he loves her. She’d cut and dyed her hair just to get under Jocelyn’s skin, despite his warnings.

But, two play that game. Joanna does everything in her power to remind Jocelyn that she’s only her father’s girlfriend. Not even her mother. Contrary to what everyone around them believes, Joanna is not a blood relation of Jocelyn’s. In turn, Jocelyn cruelly reminds Joanna in one negative form or another that she’s merely the baggage coming along for the ride with Leonard.

Baggage. If he couldn't maintain his cover, he’d be dead baggage. Maybe not seizing and foaming at the mouth dead but dumped where no one could find his body dead.

Given the past, he wouldn’t put it past Jocelyn to have him incinerated, instead.

“Call me when you get there,” Jocelyn says, filing her nails. “You forgot last time.”

“Alright,” he says, ignoring the indignant look Joanna tosses him as he leans down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he whispers gently.

Joanna gives him a peck on the cheek, and he rushes out the door.

The drive to the hospital is smooth, no one is following, and the hospital reels him in the second he steps onto the floor. He feels almost normal for the first time since walking off the ferry. It’s a false emotion, a false sense of security, but it gets him through the surgery he’d been called in to assist. Nothing will ever be the same, and afterwards, he sits slumped at his desk to control his own breathing. At least here he can let go, if just a little. He inspects his office for bugs several times a day. He knows for a fact that the part-time receptionist who can see him from her vantage point outside his office is one of Jocelyn’s partners.

He doesn’t close the blinds but he does loosen his collar. He pauses, a detail nagging at his mind, growing doubt in his chest. Jim had had a handkerchief in his left pocket. But that pocket had been empty shortly after they’d called the time of death. It could be a coincidence, but why would anyone take a handkerchief from a dead man? Who had taken it?

Leonard taps his fingers on his desk. The dead man had been an undercover agent. The neatly folded cloth could have actually been a signal to someone. Had it been a message for Leonard? It feels like it had been a message for him. That just as Jim’s pocket is now empty, so is Leonard’s life.

He snaps his head up at the rap at the door. He sees through the window that it’s Geoffrey M’Benga.

Leonard swallows, rubs his face. He could use a friend. “Come in.”

Geoffrey opens the door and pops his head in, speaking immediately. “We could still use an extra pair of hands, you know. I’ll buy you coffee all week.”

Leonard exhales a strangled breath. “Been a long day.”

Geoff’s smile is wan and apologetic. “I’m sorry, Leo. We’re too shorthanded tonight. Loudon went into premature labor. She’s having her baby today. And, I’ve just received word that Petrick was in an accident visiting his family in Florida. He’ll be laid up there for at least two weeks. A bizarre car crash that almost mangled his hand. Not to mention Sark, who didn't show up today at all and isn’t answering my calls. No one knows where he is. No one can find him.”

“Bizarre” and “can’t find him” are red flags. Had he been manipulated to come here? Is there nowhere that he can put his feet up? Fucking breathe?

Jim’s death clouds his thinking, and Leonard can’t quite compute the information correctly, not on top of this sorrow he’s feeling. But he understands that they really are shorthanded. The hospital can't possibly operate well with just a handful of physicians. He sighs and rolls his shoulders.

He rises from his seat before he answers. “I’ll stay. But I’ll have to call Jocelyn first and explain. By the way, don't be surprised if I’m working at a nursing home soon.”

“What?” Geoff asks confusedly.

“Never mind.” Leonard sighs. “Yes, I'll stay. I should tell Joce.”

“Thanks, Leo.” Geoff’s smile is now forced.

Leonard finds it difficult not to wince. Does everyone know how much she controls him? And she’s not even his _wife_. Small mercy she’d said no when he’d popped the question.

“Sure,” he says tightly.

Geoff takes a second glance at him, as if he senses something is wrong, but leaves without a word. As is Leonard’s usual course of action when he calls Jocelyn, he goes to a closet near the locker rooms. He turns on the dim light and shuts himself in, turning the lock.

Here, there is no distraction, no noise to distort her words. It’s dark and twisted and subservient, but she wants him all to herself even when they’re on the fucking phone. And if he doesn't comply, he'll reap the consequences. Or Joanna will, though Joce has never laid a finger on her. He makes sure of that, becoming as submissive and compliant as possible so Jocelyn has no reason to harm his daughter.

Someone clears their throat in the darkened corner.

Leonard isn’t startled and he doesn’t pull out his phone to call Jocelyn. Not yet. He doesn’t move at all. He waits for the man to reveal himself.

The lined face of Christopher Pike appears in seconds, his janitorial uniform unflattering and dull. The older man fits the image of a father mourning his son, who also shoulders the heavy responsibility of being an SSA.

It makes Leonard feels worse. He can't blame Pike as much as he wants to. Neither can he blame Jim.

But, dammit, he has to blame someone. If not for Joanna, and the memory of his deceased parents, Jocelyn would have been dead years ago. But it isn’t time and it may never be the right time. They had to find answers to the mystery surrounding his parents’ deaths, their project, and Jocelyn had those answers.

“Bugs?” Leonard is the first to ask, mouthing the word.

“We’re clean. I’ve been sitting here for awhile, you know,” Chris says.

The light-hearted complaint falls flat, but he imagines Jim’s laughter as he teases Chris in return. The blonde had practically worshipped this man his entire life.

Leonard can hardly stand to look at him.

He sneers, his emotions getting the best of him. “I could say a lot about that, but I won’t.”

Chris’s jaw ticks. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be.”

Leonard laughs, stopping him, and slams a hand against the wall. “Angry?” His hand curls into a fist. “You can’t possibly know how I feel.”

Chris doesn't have the daily angst in relationships that he did. Ironically, four years ago, almost a year after Jocelyn had taken Leonard’s sorry ass under her wing thus completing the next phase of his mission, he’d come face to face with Jim. He’d been mesmerized. Captivated. But he’d had a girlfriend who’d already asked him to stay with her. A woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Neither would the FBI. He was stuck with her.

That day she'd taken him in had been the only time she’d ever shown him some form of generosity. He'd been grateful she’d fallen for him quickly, for his tale of woe as a washed out doctor with gambling debts and a daughter to boot. He’d used his cover, attempting to find a paper trail that could eventually prove her crimes. In the process, he’d languished for four more years, unable to be with Jim like he wanted. As much as he’d desired a life with Jim, he’d had to stay put. Do his job. He'd worked five long years before that perfecting his cover, getting the job at the hospital, acting like everyone was better than he was. Acting the fool.

Granted, today he was supposed to be in Witness Protection, along with Joanna. His one regret is that he'd never told Jim that he was an agent, just like Jim. He'd hated lying to Jim but the risk had always been too great. He'd been in too deep.

Instead, he'd allowed Jim to care for him and his daughter. He'd allowed Jim to grow attached to him. To grow worried about them both. He’d given Jim a greater purpose, just like Pike had wanted him to do.

This extraction had been planned for Jim’s sake.

Not his. Not Joanna’s. But Jim’s.

Pike had wanted Jim as far from this dangerous life as possible and he'd found that Leonard McCoy could do that. Accomplish his dirty work for him. His deception, no matter the good intentions behind his decision.

Ironically, it'd only taken a month for Leonard to fall fast and hard for the younger man. Jim had done the same with Leonard, maybe even faster.

“It was Jim’s decision,” Chris says quietly. “No one forced him.”

“No?” he challenges, waiting for some indication that Chris believed Jim’s death to be foul play, too.

“No,” the older man says firmly. “He might have been...might have _acted_ like a pretty face but he wanted to do one last thing for us.”

“The drug shouldn’t be in the hands of anyone in the first place!” he shouts, forgetting himself. He snarls, the muscles of his neck tightening like they’re in a choke hold, his lover’s death killing him, too. “Do you have any idea of what it could’ve done to Jim, had it not killed him!”

“At ease, soldier,” Chris breathes, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let go of me,” he grits, the years of being obedient to Jocelyn’s will effortlessly falling away.

He straightens his shoulders. Chris pulls his hand away and doesn’t step back. The tension thickens between them, even more when Chris peers into his eyes. He pretends he doesn’t see the worry filling them.

“We still have to get you and Joanna out of harm’s way,” Chris’s authoritative air fills the small closet.

“No,” he opposes adamantly. “If you pull me out, we will have wasted all of this.”

Jim’s death? For nothing? He can hardly breathe. He can take his parents’ death being meaningless, the spies who’d wanted his father’s secrets winning after all. But he can't take it if Jim’s death had been pointless. No…not his.

“Sparrow has what you need,” Chris says slowly.

Leonard rocks back on his heels like he took a slug to the gut.

“What?” he exclaims.

“It’s over,” Chris explains.

“She didn’t tell me,” he says hoarsely.

After all they’d been through, she’d never said a word.

The betrayal stings.

“Did she have the chance?” Chris asks.

Leonard grows quiet. He’d been at Jocelyn’s side, shopping and having dinner together all afternoon and evening. Like people do when they’re in a relationship. He’d held her hand, though he’d wanted to twist her arms behind her and send her back from where she came. He’d kissed her passionately, though his heart was dead. If he’d slipped even once, Jocelyn would have catalogued his mistake like she catalogued everything else.

After their date, they’d settled into the living room with Joanna for a rare quiet time, only to be interrupted by his damn pager. Maybe it had been a godsend, but it’d only distracted him from what he’d wanted to do. Talk with Sparrow.

“I guess not,” he answers respectfully.

Chris is still his superior, even if he hates the words spilling from his mouth.

He’s ready to bolt out the door and return to work, a part of him unable to leave the wretched life he was living. Though he knows Jocelyn’s hold on him is an utter lie by code of his profession as an undercover agent, her marks are all over him. Both figuratively and literally.

With Jim, however, they’re bearable.

But now...Jim is gone.

If he keeps his cover, it will be the torture he deserved. Every day, at her mercy. Every day, every hour, blaming himself for Jim’s death. A long misery that will eventually kill him, if he doesn't go insane first.

“But now you know and you must leave,” Chris insists, breaking his self-pity.

“Take Joanna,” he counters. “Take her and get her away from all of this like Jim and I had planned. It’s time.”

Chris’s eyes widen. “Leonard, I know this is difficult but I don’t have the clearance to fake her death.”

Leonard closes the gap and glares at the man.

“That’s not true and you know it,” he snaps. “It’s the only way to get her out of the mess if I stick around and continue to grovel at Jocelyn's feet.”

“You’re not supposed to stay,” Chris says.

“The hell I’m not,” he growls.

“No, you’re not.” Chris pauses and then delivers a low blow. “Jim wouldn’t want you to,” he says softly.

Leonard has to blink several times to recover.

“He always spoke of your sadness living with Jocelyn. Of your devotion to your father’s memory. To the future of your family.” Chris hesitates. “Things I already knew, but maybe it'll comfort you to know he did speak fondly of you, McCoy.”

“Where’s his body?” Leonard changes the subject, unable to deal with the fresh hurt rising in his chest.

Chris briefly closes his eyes. “That’s not...up for discussion. Did he say anything to you before he died?”

“Not up for discussion?” Leonard repeats in disbelief.

“Did he say anything to you before he died?” Chris repeats, just the same.

Leonard had had enough. “Where. Is. He.”

It’s a command, not a question this time.

Chris’s face is blank. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Leonard accuses. “You don’t just lose one of your men, a dead man. You certainly don’t lose Jim!”

He thinks his shouts actually sound threatening to Chris, for the older man hesitates. “You’re right. We don’t just lose Jim. But we did.”

“Then what is this about?” he nearly shouts again.

“One thing at time, McCoy,” Chris says slowly. “We believe your cover has been compromised.”

He sucks in a deep breath. “She knows? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chris’s eyes harden. “I needed to see how you were handling things first,” he says. “Thanks to your Intel, we recently caught her on surveillance.”

“When?” he asks tightly.

“Yesterday. There looked like what could have been a brush pass,” Chris explains. “But we weren’t sure if the mole had contacted her until we traced a cryptic email back to the office right before I left for the hospital. We believe the same mole knew about #381 and could have killed Jim.” He pauses and peers at him. “But that doesn't surprise you, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he grits. “Jim is too smart to overdose.”

Chris runs his hand over his face and sighs. “If she does know who you are, your backstop won’t be enough. And you know as well as I do that in this particular situation, we can’t do a thing until we’re sure. Your best chance is _you_ , McCoy.”

Leonard can't come up with a reply, for then it all makes sense.

Jim had been murdered, and Leonard called back to the hospital because two other doctors had either had a mysterious accident or were missing. And Joanna…

She was at home with Jocelyn.

Alone.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Leonard—”

“Fuck,” he says again, cursing himself. In a blink of an eye, he’s no longer Jocelyn’s spineless boyfriend, bending to her every whim, but a man who’d practically built Chris’s team for him with his own sweat and blood. “I have to go.”

Chris shakes his head. “She’ll be fine. She can handle herself. You’ve trained her—”

“She’s a kid,” he snaps. “And my responsibility.”

Chris clutches his arm. “Do not return to your home, McCoy. You’re not in the right state of mind.”

Leonard peels the hand off of his forearm. “Maybe you shouldn’t be giving the orders, _Captain_. Losing your own son? Because of an experiment?”

The statement is an even lower blow than what Pike had given him, but it’s the truth.

“He was my son, and I failed him,” Chris says, grimacing.

Leonard believes the sorrow he hears in his voice but he can’t resist a jab. “And I’m the one who’s compromised?”

Chris smiles sadly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Now you sound like Spock.”

Leonard blinks. Spock. An agent who’d supposedly gone rogue more than six months ago. Jim had missed him, since they’d been close friends. But Jim had never mentioned him except for a few times after he’d disappeared.

In fact, Leonard doubts that he'd even heard Spock’s name mentioned lately.

But...maybe he has.

“Spock’s returned, then?” he asks.

“No,” Chris says.

Leonard knows it's another lie. He looks at the floor, gathering his thoughts. Averting his eyes as he considers his last moments with Jim. “I have to go back. I have to go back. I have to go home. Joanna…” His voice cracks when it shouldn’t.

He’s wasting time when he shouldn't. He turns without another word and grabs the door handle.

Chris inhales sharply. “You go back upset, if she suspects anything, she might kill you.”

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Maybe she will, but not before I destroy her first. If we finally have sufficient evidence, she’s done for.”

“Then let the evidence do its work. Joanna can take care of herself, she can get away.”

“I promised them I’d keep her safe,” Leonard tosses over his shoulder as he prepares to leaves. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”

He’d been unable to save Jim. But if he can save Joanna, maybe his death wouldn't be for nothing.

But Pike tries again, holding his arm, making a bruise. “McCoy—”

“Dammit man, let go,” Leonard commands tightly. “Jim isn't your problem anymore, is he? He's dead, Chris! Dead!”

Chris pales. Leonard tamps down any sympathy he feels for him. If he shows any weakness from this point on, he’d accomplish nothing and Jocelyn may win after all.

“He's no longer your problem. And neither am I,” he says evenly, the path before him clearer than ever. “Let. Go.”

Eyes pained, Chris gives a slight nod and does what he asks, taking three steps back from Leonard.

The tables are turned and Leonard feels Chris giving him room to speak. He takes a quick breath, focusing. “I'll extract her and she'll contact you when it's done.”

‘Because he might be dead’ goes unsaid.

“HQ will demand disciplinary action be taken if you go against my orders,” Chris says, an attempt to make him to change his mind, he's sure.

“Not your problem,” he repeats.

Chris’s eyes narrow. “For the record, you were the best thing that had ever happened to Jim.”

It’s meant to flatter but the guilt comes in suffocating waves. He pushes against the door to prevent himself from sagging against it.

“You mean, because you manipulated him into loving me?” Leonard asks darkly. “Because you sidetracked my entire life’s work, sacrificing it all for the sake of a pretty boy? So he’d protect an innocent teenager and her father? An abused man, who was also undercover? A fact everyone failed to fucking tell him?”

Chris doesn't reply. He doesn't have to. Leonard leaves without a backwards glance.

Striding through the halls of the hospital, he can’t believe he'd stooped as low as Pike, calling Jim just a pretty face.

Something his lover had always hated hearing others say about him. Something Leonard had promised Jim wasn't true.

He throws up in the bushes as soon as he exits the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is when I start adding my "please don't hate me" disclaimer. Please, don't hate me! I'll post again soon, I promise.
> 
> Oh, FYI, the eighteen chapter limit could end up being twenty. So don't be surprised if you see that go up just a bit. Actually, this story was supposed to have been just TWO chapters, and look what happened. :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> SSA= Supervisory Special Agent  
> Backstop= In depth cover/alibi


	3. The Siren's Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Junker5 and Diamondblue4, for betaing and keeping me on my toes!
> 
> Same warnings. :) Also, not every chapter in this story will be chronological. (Blame Alias...which messes with your mind that way...and Lost...which I'm sporadically watching again, too.) Anyway, I have several chapters scattered in this fic that are 'flashbacks' or 'backstory' via Jim's POV. But this chapter isn't one of them. :) 
> 
> Enjoy.

Leonard stops at a safehouse before winding his way back to his neighborhood. He'll choose his weapons wisely, the ones he knew like the back of his hand. He hasn't handled any of them in recent months because he never carries handguns on his person. He doesn't keep knives or other weapons in his car. He literally has nothing in his possession at the house or in his office that would even suggest to Jocelyn that he was lying to her.

One good thing about being in deep cover was this low-level of trust she’d finally given him. It was better than no trust at all. But, he’d earned some after giving her years of obedience and nothing to doubt about him. He could do many things without being followed, but even then he could never be sure. So, he’d lived a very careful life, planning every single meeting he had with Jim and feeding his ideas to Chris.

Before leaving his car in the lot behind the safehouse, he sees Joanna’s face ghost before him. It’s alarming to him that he is still able to feel anxious, given that he’d acquiesced and taken medication at Jim’s insistence. He walks quickly, even though there was nothing he could do until he got back to the house. He tries to calm his own fears by thinking logically about the situation. Joanna was seventeen, a tough seventeen who could hold her own for a short time. Leonard had trained her from a young age because she was too intelligent for her own good. With any luck, Jocelyn would hold off on mortally wounding Joanna for the sole purpose of making him watch. She had patterns of torturing more for sport than for Intel. He’d no doubt that using Joanna to get to him would be the icing on the cake for her.

He’d deceived her for years, living right under her nose. Jocelyn had to be furious. And an enraged Jocelyn was no one to trifle with.

Sighing, he opens the door to the safehouse and looks at no one as he takes the stairs two at a time. If they’re surprised he’s there, they don’t say. Once on the third floor, he goes to where Chris hid his weapons, his Glock and Sig, stashed under a broken floorboard in the northeast corner. He straps the guns on and pockets his knives, knowing instinctively that he’s being watched.

He’d rather do this alone, it’d work better that way, but both Sulu and Chekov had been utterly devoted to Jim. They’re the ones standing in the doorway, watching him like a hawk, and he can’t blame them. Though they’d watched him for the sake of keeping his cover, for keeping Jim out of the loop, he hasn’t spoken to either of them in years. Five to be exact, ever since he’d begun his deep cover under Jocelyn’s thumb. He’d recruited Sulu, though, along with Scott, trained their asses off. He could say with confidence they were two of the best agents. He’d trust them with his life.

But had he truly been that lonely? Making contact only with Chris? And Jim? And, before he’d left, Spock?

He shoves the thoughts aside and straps a knife to his leg. He stands and takes stock of himself, as he does several times every damn day to make sure he was functional, that his reflexes were still acceptable. He’s very fit but not in peak physical shape, the new places where she’d inflicted pain during sex last night bothering him. But now his heart rate is stabilized. He doesn’t sweat, doesn’t shake, doesn’t need to do anything else to sharpen his focus than decide to get the damn job done.

He feels like a new person with his weapons on his person, again. Protected. And, ironically, safe.

Life with Jocelyn has always been a little unpredictable. He’d never been a human punching bag in a domestic setting before her. He’d never experienced waking up and finding himself tied to the bed, either. Or known the psychological effects caused by performing numerous menial tasks, coupled with verbal abuse.

Just thinking of not having to endure another second of it made him lightheaded.

What he’d told Jim before was the truth. Jocelyn wasn’t real, but the abuse was.

Though Jim never knew he was an agent and practically a founding father to dozens of operations, having trained some of the men and women he worked with, he’d always told him the truth about the repercussions of living with Jocelyn. That everything he did, he did to protect Joanna.

But he’d also lied by omission. He endured his cover for the sole purpose of avenging his parents - and his sister.

“Chris called us,” Sulu says quietly. “Scotty would’ve been here, too, but he disappeared hours ago. They suspect foul play.”

Leonard frowns. Chris had never mentioned it. Odd, since on a night like this, Scott’s disappearance implies more than foul play. He doesn’t know what to think.

“I work alone,” he mutters, glancing up at them with a brow raised. “Don’t follow me.”

“We know you work alone, sir, but with all due respect, you might need us,” Sulu counters, folding his arms.

Chekov is beside him, shaking his head. “Ve cannot leave you like zis. Alone.”

“I thought Spock - that we - were the only rule breakers,” Leonard mutters under his breath.

Sulu frowns. “He never broke the rules. He….got tired of the way things were done. As we all get at some point. And you don’t break rules - you just operate on a different level than the rest of us. Same as Jim does…” Sulu blinks, when Leonard looks at him sharply. “I mean, _did_. Sorry, I didn’t mean to forget...”

Leonard has no time to get into a philosophical conversation about their tedious, dangerous jobs or Jim’s death, but he needs to know as much about the rogue agent as possible. And Chris certainly wasn’t helping him.

“He left Jim,” he says. He stares hard at them. “His friend,” he stresses.

Chekov gets red in the face. “He did not -”

Sulu elbows Chekov forcibly in the side, causing him to clamp his mouth shut.

“He left,” Sulu repeats. “Yes. He did.”

“And he’s back,” Leonard says.

They look at him in confusion. Raw confusion.

Leonard cocks a brow. “You didn't know that?”

Chekov’s brows meet together, and Sulu shakes his head.

He’s satisfied that they’re ignorant of it.

If Spock had truly gone rogue, if he was the damn mole, the less involved they were, the better. Leonard sighs and brushes shoulders with them as he strides out of the room and takes the stairs as fast as he can. They follow him and come outside.

“You’ll need us,” Sulu says softly from behind him.

Leonard closes his eyes and halts in the middle of the lot. He breathes in the night air, knowing he was at a crossroads. If he agreed, he’d be endangering their lives. Chris needed every good, warm body on the team that they had. But, if he and Joanna couldn’t get out of the house without great physical harm, they’d at least need a getaway car.

He’d prefer to go on foot. Joanna would, too. She ran faster than he did.

But he couldn't make one wrong move. Not today. Not with Jim...gone.

He makes his decision and begins walking.

“Fine. Don’t forget to turn out the light when you leave,” he barks over his shoulder and catches a rare smile from Sulu and Chekov’s beaming one. He'd call them when it was time, but they worked so instinctively they'd probably be waiting for _him_. “Switch cars with mine five blocks away on the northwest side,” he adds roughly.

“Yes, sir,” Sulu says.

He gets in his car and drives the ten minutes to his upscale neighborhood, going over the speed limits as much as he can without the risk of being stopped. He usually took his time when he drove. It was what he did best this deep undercover—take his time—but not now.

However, Jocelyn, it seemed, was taking her time. If she’d been in a hurry, she’d have already tried to kill him and torture Joanna before now. She could have done so repeatedly since yesterday, after she’d discovered the truth about him.

He is, indeed, Leonard McCoy, an undercover agent. But before his beginnings as McCoy in the FBI, he'd been a very different man.

His parents, David and Eleanora Quinn, had named him Bradey. He’d changed his full name from Bradey Quinn to Leonard McCoy halfway through medical school. He'd left that university after his parents had been murdered and forged papers, simultaneously gaining admittance in another university and signing his life over to the government.

He’d no use for his name after his parents’ deaths, and also his sister’s, when his life had gone to shambles and he’d paved a new road for himself. He’d left his other self behind, family, too. He knew for a fact his aunts and uncles and cousins assumed he’d also died in the same car crash that had claimed his sister, Donna, one day after David and Eleanora Quinn’s funeral.

It was only a matter of time before Jocelyn put two and two together and discovered the truth about the teenager. Especially if she got too close to her, not that Joanna would ever let her without putting up a fight.

He has a sinking feeling in his stomach now. He is on borrowed time. He parks five blocks from the house and darts through darkened backyards the rest of the way. The empty street is proof that Chris has faith in him despite their last, tumultuous conversation. Still, he knew Sulu and Chekov would be loitering close by in minutes.

No one was watching Jocelyn now. Their presence would only aggravate the situation. Not that his decision to return would come as a surprise to the woman, who’s silhouette he sees through a window on the second floor. It sickens him every time he looks at her, the woman responsible for the deaths of hundreds.

That she was merely a shadow through the curtain made no difference. One glance and he wondered how the hell he managed to live with this volatile woman day after day, year after year.

He slinks under Joanna’s window, gradually becoming aware that someone is moving to intercept him. He catches a glimpse of a familiar profile, out of place here in the shadows. Sadness coats the tension in his gut. Fellow surgeon Petrick’s skill would soon be a thing of the past. For now, it was imperative that he maneuver carefully, controlling the contact.

The other surgeon approaches him threateningly, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. His knives gleam brighter, no doubt freshly sharpened. Leonard glances casually at the man's —assassin’s?—perfect hands.

“Sorry to hear about your hand,” Leonard says without inflection. “Looks like it’s...better.”

Petrick slips to the side, making him turn his head as he circles him. “Oops. Did I mention, I wasn’t in an accident?”

Leonard loosens the knife in his sleeve with a finger. It slips down without a hitch. “Geoffrey,” he says slowly. “Is he….?”

“In on this, too? Or dead?” Petrick lifts his brows. “He might be dead by the time you return to the hospital, but I’ll let you wonder about that for a moment. Because you won’t be finding out for yourself later on, Leo.”

“To think I invited your family here for a barbecue just last week,” he counters, fighting an audible sigh of relief that M’Benga isn’t, in fact, one of his enemies. “Your five-year-old would have loved the pool.”

Leonard prays his friend isn’t dead, merely working himself to death back at the hospital.

Petrick shrugs. “Not a problem. She hates the water. But maybe Jocelyn won’t mind if we still come for a visit. After she properly buries you, of course.”

“Why not just jump me?” he asks, killing time. “This certainly seems like a waste.”

Petrick laughs. “She wants you to sweat it out. Wonder if she’s torturing your daughter. Maybe starting on her beautiful face, first.”

The assassin smirks and pauses, as if waiting for a reaction from him.

He gives him none.

“You don’t really know her, do you?” he asks.

“Don’t have to. I follow orders.”

“Well, let me tell you that she wouldn’t start there. Not with the face. She’d start with the hands. Always the hands. Maybe that’s why she pretended to love me, wrapping her hand around mine whenever we were in public. Subconsciously knowing who I was. She’d start with my hands first. Breaking every bone or slicing the fingers off, one by one. Ending my career as a surgeon. Mimicking the death of David Quinn.” Leonard pauses. “Sometimes, she even kills her partners that way for sport. I’d look up her history, if I were you.”

If she’d even looked at Joanna’s hands, Leonard had no qualms about repaying her for the favor.

Petrick swallows, fingers twitching. “You don't say,” he says after a pause.

Leonard feels a little smug and continues. “So you were hired to watch me?” He pauses, counting down the seconds before he made his move. “I did nothing else besides what she told me to do. You would have had more fun bagging groceries.”

“I observed you only at the hospital. You’re too good at your job and she liked your submission too much, so she gave you room to spread your wings,” Petrick’s taunts, his eyes narrowing. “But how you managed to have a lover right under her nose all these years is beyond me.”

Leonard thinks it sounds like reluctant admiration, but he won’t be fooled. “Jocelyn just isn’t as good at this spy business as you think she is. Tell me, did she even tell you that I can hit my targets with my eyes closed? Oh, wait. I’m sorry. She wouldn’t know, being that she just figured out who I really am only yesterday.”

Irritation fills Petrick’s expression.

“She’ll fail. Just like you will,” Leonard says evenly.

Petrick sneers. “You wonder who did Kirk’s autopsy?” He chuckles darkly, spinning the knife with his fingers. “Who cut him up so prettily? I might even have a souvenir. A lock of hair. A toe.”

Leonard shuts his eyes, like he’s wounded by his words, and uses the exact moment to throw the knife in his hand at Petrick’s shin.

The man is an idiot not to expect it. It slides deep in the leg, the damage good enough to give Leonard a few extra seconds. Petrick screams, throws his own knife. Leonard dives for the ground and rolls, not knowing where the knife landed. He is standing and on the balls of his feet before the agent slides the gun from his waist.

“Fuck you, McCoy,” Petrick cries, gun pointing to the side. “Fuck you.”

Leonard should use a gun, shoot him now, but he needs silence. A light in a neighbor’s window just turned on.

Leonard aims again with the other knife as Petrick pants for breath, his leg going out from under him when it finds his calf.

“Fuck,” Petrick groans, and lifts his hand with effort.

The gun fires silently, but Leonard had already gambled his next move and charges him. The bullet whizzes past his ear, nicking it, and he immediately feels the hot, painful wound. He ignores the sensation and plows into Petrick, knocking him to the ground completely. The gun falls several feet away.

Petrick fights, hands swinging, and a knife slices Leonard’s left side. He feels the sting but it’s not too deep. Growling, he pins him down, pushing through his pain to place more force on his opponent’s neck.

Petrick’s eyes are wide and desperate, and Leonard sees the surgeon he’d worked with for two years. Innocent. Kind. Willing to bend over backwards to help you.

“Wait—" Petrick sputters briefly, then chokes when Leonard blocks off his air, forearm pressing into his neck.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m done with waiting,” Leonard hisses.

He covers the agent’s mouth and nose, essentially smothering him. He struggles only for a few seconds.

Leonard huffs a breath and climbs off of him. He grabs Petrick's gun and shoots the man in the head with his own, silent gun. He can’t be watching his back.

Leonard stares down at the body, wipes his chin with his hand. There’s blood on Leonard’s face, streaming from his ear, the twinge in his side steadily throbbing. But, this was nothing. He’s suffered worse and can’t stop to check his injuries. He walks away from the body quickly.

This fight had been too easy. Petrick should have been quicker, much less talkative, and a better shot. Something had prevented him from reacting like a trained assassin would, and that pointed to one thing. Jocelyn could have compromised her own team for the pure sport of it, just like he expected.

It’s just like her to taunt him by compromising Petrick. He makes his way into the house, but he can’t expect another fairly docile agent.

He slips around to the other side of the house and seeing no one, goes through the backdoor. Darkness greets him, but it's his own home and he knows where to step, every corner to avoid.

A shadow moves fleetingly under a window. Leonard ducks down, expecting a shot but only hears the sound of muffled footsteps, the patter of feet going up the stairs.

“ _Leo_ ,” he hears whispered in the dark.

It momentarily astonishes him that's it's her but he moves around a counter. He doesn’t see the foot sticking out in the darkness and trips unexpectedly.

“Damnit,” he breathes. He falls on one knee and has to steady himself with one hand on the floor. He bites back another curse because he should've known better.

Breathing out his nostrils, he looks down for the object that had gotten in his way. It’s another hostile, someone he doesn’t recognize. Blood trickles out of the corner of the man’s mouth, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Jocelyn’s own handiwork.

Leonard moves more carefully, sweeping the rest of the first floor. When he finds it’s empty, there is no way to go except up. His eyes always focused upwards, he takes his first step on the staircase. Soon, a soft melody begins playing from the speakers, a tune he knows turned into a soothing ballad.

_“...take my hand...take my whole life, too…”_

His skin prickles when a woman begins to hum along with it.

_“...for I can’t help...falling in love with you…”_

“Leonard,” the woman whispers from somewhere just beyond his reach. “I almost thought you wouldn't come back. But, here you are.”

Leonard’s mouth grows dry at the sound of her voice.

 _“...falling in love with you…”_ the song repeats.

It's softly beckoning and soon, he's at the stop of the stairs, back against the wall and gun ready. He shuts out the music and closes his eyes to focus and steady his hands.

He isn’t used to this, can’t reconcile what he’s doing. This was the woman he wouldn’t dare to even look at funny, let alone try to kill.

Sweat gathers uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

“Where is she, Jocelyn?” He winces when his voice sounds weak and submissive, like it usually does when they’re home. He swallows harshly, willing his voice to strengthen.

“Oh, in her room,” she practically sings. “You know how she is when you’re gone. A shy, quiet little thing who locks herself in her room. Just like you are when I'm not here, Leo. _Scared_.”

“I swear to God, Joce,” he bellows, “if you’ve done anything to her…”

“You’ll what? I can’t imagine you hurting me, Leo. You’re far too...weak.” She sighs. “And I rather like that side of you.”

Leonard determines by now that the voice is coming from the third bedroom down on the left and slips around the corner. He’s surprised to see the light on, the door only partially shut.

The music morphs into a darker, distorted version that sends another shiver up his spine.

_“...take my hand…”_

“But I’m pretty sure that Leonard isn't coming back, is he?” she whispers.

_“...my whole life, too…”_

He’s at the door, and with his foot, pushes it open.

“There, there, Leo,” she says, voice like silk. “See, this wasn’t too hard? And I have Joanna, if you want her.”

His heart stops as he makes probably what is the stupidest decision in his entire life. He enters as if in a daze, guided by her voice, the conditioning he’d endured for so long overcoming rational thought.

Jocelyn is standing by the bed, holding a grenade, Joanna unconscious beside her.

Authentic surprise flashes in her eyes. “You’re hurt,” she says. She narrows her eyes and looks at his side. “I didn’t want Petrick to really hurt you so I might have...done something to his drink earlier.”

He ignores that. “It doesn't have to be this way.”

She cocks her head. “But it does. I’m not going to surrender to you, let you bring me in. God, the thought of that makes me want to vomit. It’s always the other way around with us, and that’s one more reason for me to just let this indiscretion of yours...go,” she finishes softly.

“It’s over, Joce.”

“You won’t kill me, Leo,” she says, moving away from Joanna and towards the open window. The curtain billows in the cool air.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” she says, her smile sickening him with its sweetness.

He wants to take the shot but she raises her hand with the grenade, reminding him that she was in control as always.

He decides he hates his life, he hates the man he’d had to become. Had he failed? Since it’d come down to this, anyway? A war between the two of them?

She backs into the wall, settling herself on the windowsill.

Joanna moans, moving slightly on the bed. “Dad?” she whispers.

Leonard barely refrains from looking at his daughter.

“What did you do to her?” he demands of Jocelyn.

Jocelyn’s smile wanes. “She’ll live, if that’s what you want to know. I knew I’d lose this fight if I had harmed her. There’s nothing like a father’s wrath. Just on the off chance that you could catch up to me I took the high road. So, I just...slipped her something to confuse her a little. Slow her down.”

It’s as if she actually cares, which makes no sense. Leonard tightens his grip on his gun, wishing he held a knife instead. The sweet talk was a lie.

“If it helps any, you were the best boyfriend I ever had. And I think…” She tosses the grenade on the bed. It lands by Joanna’s head. Leonard’s heart jumps in his throat. “I’m going to miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The last name of the actor who played Leonard's father in TOS is Quinn.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and if you leave a comment, thank you for that, also. I'd really love to hear your thoughts! This is such a different genre for me to write. It has also been a positive way to deal with a few personal things lately but at the same time, I'm also having fun writing this story. I hope that it's been an enjoyable read for you so far, too. 
> 
> I know that's an evil cliffhanger. I'll post more soon. Not sure if it'll be this weekend, though, but definitely by Monday! Have a good weekend!


	4. Why Don't You Fly Me Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello - here's a surprise update! If you've made it this far, you know that 1, not everything is as it appears to be...and 2, I like leaving breadcrumbs. :D 
> 
> This chapter is in Jim's POV, backstory or flashback or whatever you want to call it. We are going back four weeks. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the read.

_Four weeks ago_

Jim leans against the alley wall across from the gym, watching as Leonard exits. Leonard’s dressed casually in a black shirt and dark jeans, his hair slightly mussed. He looks so good and so relaxed that Jim’s heart beats faster.

Damn, he was the best looking person he’d ever seen walking out of the gym. Any gym. For being a doctor, and with not much extra time on his hands to begin with thanks to Jocelyn, he really was in great shape. As far as Jim knew, Leonard came three days a week to this same gym, a habit he began eight years ago.

If Jim had known Leonard eight years ago, he’d had come three days a week, too. Hell, he’d have come every day if there’d been even a small chance of running into him.

Leonard sees him and his mouth draws into a smirk. Jim realizes he’s staring too intently but continues to watch, anyway, even when it's quite clear that he’s laughing silently at him. Jim doesn’t care, because his body was beginning to react. Feeling his desire rise, he moistens his lips. He swallows nervously. He straightens and shifts from one foot to the other. And he can’t help any of it.

Twenty, he tells himself. It had been twenty long days since he’d last talked with him face-to-face. And far, far too long. His head knows it. His heart. And so does his body. Jim clenches his hands, warmth creeping up his neck as his longing stirs.

Leonard notices just like he notices everything about Jim. His eyes soften, and just for that, Jim wants to run to him, wrap his arms around him in a crushing embrace. He wants Bones to stride towards him, attacking him with kisses - but they both restrain themselves. It wasn’t wise to display that type of affection in public no matter how careful they were. Besides, a car was waiting around the corner for them, Uhura at the wheel, ready to take them to a secluded spot where he and Bones could spend an hour alone.

Twenty days.

This was the longest they’d ever gone without contact. And it hurt. Every minute and every second of every hour it just fucking hurt. Jim thought losing an arm would feel better than this agony, this loss he felt. Or losing a leg. Being without Bones? It was like a part of his soul was missing. It was like listening to every single damn sad song on country radio. It was like eating a gallon of ice cream night after night. It was like...his better self had fallen off the face of the earth.

He’d become so dependent on Leonard, and their relationship was far from normal to begin with. They could barely maintain a relationship, though they loved each other and expressed it often. That’s what made this meeting all the more important. Chris had announced that he had new plans to extract the father and daughter as soon as possible—if Leonard finally agreed.

As Leonard crosses the street, Jim prays he doesn't deny them this for the ninth damn time. He doesn't know if he can take anymore watching and waiting and worrying.

Leonard's connection to Jocelyn was an awfully strange coincidence. When Chris had first told him about it, Jim hadn’t even believed him. Bones? Living with the woman who had essentially murdered his father and mother? And neither knew it? It was too tragic to believe but the facts were there laid out in front of him. He could do nothing but believe it.

Much to his dismay, Chris had made him promise never to speak a word of it to Leonard for an entire year because their mission depended upon his secrecy. It was a secret he hated keeping from him, but Jim’s job was to be a friend he saw at the gym. Or at the grocery store. Or at the fucking library.

Jim’s job was to protect him as much as possible and so he had.

Yet, it’d worked. He’d gained Leonard’s trust. Then his love. By the time that happened, Jim had already been in love with him for weeks.

When Chris had finally allowed Jim to tell Leonard who he really was and inform him about Jocelyn’s secret life, it had been a relief. But things didn’t go as planned. Leonard had taken the news about his girlfriend hard. Jim couldn’t blame him. He was living with a spy, an unpredictable woman who could kill anyone with her bare hands, with any basic kitchen tool. Hell, a piece of string. Even worse—she was a woman who was already abusing him. A crushing reality for Leonard that Jim thought of a million times a day.

Jim slips further into the alley where they wouldn't be seen, silently cursing the woman. At the young age of twenty-one, Jocelyn had infiltrated a small team of doctors and scientists working on several clandestine government projects. Her parents had been getting every formula they could get their hands on, selling them to the wrong people for decades, including terrorists. Jocelyn had always known a life of espionage. She’d no official training, which made this situation even more precarious. She was a loose canon who’d literally left the door wide open for others to turn the laboratory into a bloodbath, a murder site.

Leonard’s parents had been two of the very first to be killed. Slaughtered unmercifully as if there'd been a personal grudge against them.

Jim regrets ever seeing the photographs documenting their deaths.

Leonard's reluctant acknowledgment of Jocelyn’s secret life wasn’t the worst of it. He may have finally accepted who she was, but he still hadn’t accepted one very important fact. That it was in the best interest of both him and his daughter to be placed in Witness Protection.

This ongoing reluctance was slowing them down. They were close to pulling the rug out from under Jocelyn and her entire team, having pinpointed all of their locations, developed as much Intel as they needed to take down the mastermind of it all—Jocelyn. They needed Bones and Joanna out of the house. But if he wasn’t ready, Chris wouldn’t allow it.

Four years seemed like an excessive amount of time to allow a civilian to consistently influence the final decision about something so serious. In fact, deep down, it bothered Jim. Leonard was being abused. It was affecting him in every part of his life, though he would often deny it. This woman kept him there. Jim could see it in his eyes. He heard it in his voice. He experienced it for himself during the times when Bones drew back from having sex with Jim, when all the physical intimacy he could handle was holding hands beside each other in the car or in bed.

The longer he stayed, the harder it would be for him to get away.

But Jim always came to the same conclusion. Though he couldn’t stand the thought of them under that woman’s roof another day, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Chris’s team or the operation. He couldn’t get Leonard out by himself, thus fucking up the mission, making Jocelyn suspicious at the wrong time. Hundreds, if not thousands, of lives were at stake. Not just Leonard and Joanna’s.

So he’d waited. Four long years, counting the year he’d lied to Leonard about himself, never telling him he was with the FBI.

Jim sighs. God, he fucking hated secrets.

Leonard just has to agree. Besides, this time Leonard and Joanna weren’t the only ones who’d been offered a way out. Jim would be going with them, too. He’d vowed to protect them the rest of his life.

“Hey,” Leonard says when he’s just a few feet away.

“Took you long enough,” Jim says lightly.

“Yeah, well,” Leonard clears his throat. “You know how it is. You’re living with a psychopath, trying to workout and get that six-pack you always wanted, never knowing if her minions will show up.”

Jim fights a grimace. “Right.”

Leonard leans in like he’s about to kiss Jim but blinks and pulls back, as if remembering they were outside. “So we’re ready to go?”

Jim’s breathing increases, anticipation swelling uncomfortably in his chest. This was the moment he’d been working towards, all these years. One that would give them a new life, and Jim was coming with him.

“You alright?” Leonard asks. He gently grasps Jim’s arms, peering into his eyes.

He’s about to hint at his news but his heart drops. Dark, purple bruises peek out from under Leonard’s short sleeves.

“I should ask you the same time thing,” Jim says, gripping Leonard’s arms gently in turn. He brushes his thumbs against the mottled skin, breathing unsteadily. “Bones. What happened?”

The bruises are large, marring the places on his body that Jim loved to kiss. No wonder Leonard had slowly sauntered up to him. Jocelyn has struck again. He probably has other bruises elsewhere on his body.

“Work hazard,” Leonard says indifferently.

Jim stares at the injuries more closely, now seeing red marks. Rope burns. “She tied you up?” he asks incredulously. “Against your will?”

Leonard doesn’t answer, just drops his hands and nods.

“I should murder her in her sleep,” Jim mutters. He doesn’t let go of Bones.

Leonard stares at him. “Just don't do it at our house.”

It’s the closest Leonard had come to making a joke about his situation, but Jim feels worse knowing he was referring to his innocent teenager. He drops his hands and steps back.

“Sorry,” he breathes, running his hands through his hair. “I just… Bones, I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” the older man says softly. “I’ll deal with it.”

Leonard’s answer doesn’t sit right with Jim.

“You don’t just deal with it, Leo,” Jim’s hands fall to his sides. He peruses him from head to foot, wondering what other places she’d injured. “She’s hurting you.”

Leonard puts his hands in his pockets and stares back. “Jim, I’m dealing with it.”

“You’re getting out of it,” Jim replies adamantly. “Once and for all.”

Leonard’s eyes widen. Jim’s almost taken aback by the surprise and relief in his eyes. “What?”

Jim steps closer to him and brushes a lock of his hair from his forehead, giving him a small smile. “I can get you out. And I’m going with you. The Captain agreed. I couldn’t tell you until now because I wasn’t certain Chris would let me go, but he worked it out. Bones, we’re all going. We have a cover built for us in California.”

Jim waits for an answer but Leonard stares off in the distance.

“Bones?” he asks.

Leonard’s eyes glaze over. “This isn’t real.”

Jim frowns, not understanding. “What isn’t? Us? The hell it isn’t real.”

“Her,” Leonard whispers, drawing his gaze back to Jim. “My life with her. It isn’t real.”

It’s hard for Jim to find the right words. It was almost as if Bones was denying what was happening to him. It was on his arms, plain as day. Yet, here he was. Stating to Jim’s face that it wasn’t true.

“It’s real enough,” Jim finally says. “The bruises, Leo. The way she treats you, puts you down. She’s wrong.”

“I’m the fool who stays with her. Maybe I…” Leonard falls quiet, but Jim hears what he doesn’t say.

“It’s not your fault and you don’t deserve it,” Jim says. “But it’s real. I hate it. You hate it. It is real.”

Leonard is quiet again. He looks down at his feet. “I know. I may try to convince myself it isn’t, but you’re right. It is.”

When his eyes drift again, Jim takes him by the hand, risking everything in the world by doing so. “Uhura’s waiting, Leo. Let’s go.”

Leo follows as he leads him to the car and opens the back door. Leonard gets in first, despondent, yet undeniably tense in his movements. Uhura glances back at them worriedly, but Jim shakes his head.

‘Not now,’ he mouths.

Uhura starts the car and drives. Chris had given him an anti-anxiety medication to give to Leonard if he’d take it. But, as Jim reaches in his pocket, he pauses. Leonard was the doctor, not Chris. It almost seemed wrong to give this to him, but on the other hand, who else was going to watch out for him?

Leonard leans his head back against the seat. “Something on your mind?”

“This,” Jim admits, deciding to pull out the med. “Here.” He places the single wrapped pill in Leo’s hand before reaching for a bottle of water and handing it to him, too.

“This isn’t going to knock me out, is it?” Leonard said, eyes sharp.

“Ativan. It’ll just mellow you a bit,” Jim says softly.

“I’m fine,” Leonard says, clenching his jaw.

“Not really,” Jim counters easily.

“Jim, I don’t need a med. We tried this before, remember? Didn't help.”

Jim knows for a fact that it did help but then Leonard had stubbornly changed his mind about it after some time.

He shakes his head. “Then take it so I can sleep at night.”

Leonard sighs. “I could just give you a sedative, you know. I’m the doctor, here, not a…not a...”

“Not a what?”

“Not a pill popper.”

“Never said you were. Take it,” Jim says, lifting a brow.

But Leonard fiddles with the pill in his hand. “Did you mean it when you said you’d come, too?”

“To California? Sure.”

“God help me, they have earthquakes,” Leonard mutters.

“They’ll have me,” Jim said, grasping his knee.

“Okay.” Leonard tilts his head and places the pill in his mouth, swallowing it down with one gulp of water.

“Okay?” Jim blinks at him. “That’s it? Did I just imagine it, or did you just agree to run away with me and then take a pill for your anxiety, all in the same breath?”

“Yeah,” Leonard says roughly. “I did.”

Jim can't believe his luck.

“We’re actually going to ride off into the sunset together.” He grins gleefully.

“God, Kirk, you are such a sap,” Uhura calls softly from the front.

Leonard snorts. Jim clears his throat, hoping he isn’t blushing. Damn, he’d forgotten she was there. “So? Maybe I am.”

“You both are,” she teases, though she’d only talked with Leonard a few times before. “And I knew if you were going, Leonard would agree,” Uhura says, turning the wheel to make a right. “Spock owes me,” she mutters to herself. “Whenever he decides to stop hiding. Or whatever it is that he's doing.”

Jim’s shoulders tense. “He bet against me?” He laughs a little too harshly.

Leonard takes his hand and squeezes it. He’s concerned but Jim doesn’t glance over at him. In fact, Jim doesn’t talk much about Spock to Leonard with good reason. He doesn’t say much to anyone. Spock had simply asked him not to.

Another damn secret.

There was a mole, has been for months, feeding secrets and jeopardizing one mission after another. Spock had decided he had to leave to find him. He’d also decided that by leaving, it placed all eyes and doubt on him, hopefully making the mole relaxed and overconfident. So he'd eventually make a mistake.

Jim misses his friend, but he considers it as good a strategy as any. Especially since they can't trust anyone but themselves with their plan.

She tsks. “No, you know that he’d never do that,” she says and Jim sees her smile in the mirror. “He bet against me, knowing I’d feel extra happy winning.”

“So he lost on purpose?” Jim should have figured that out. Spock was far too humble.

“He did,” she says.

“Where are we going again?” Leonard asks suddenly, changing the subject.

“The park,” Jim answers. “We have an hour. Scotty fixed the surveillance cameras at the gym, making it look like you’re still there.”

“You and your nicknames,” Leonard mutters. “Have I ever met this...Scotty?”

“Not personally but I’m sure he’s seen you,” Jim says, fighting a smile. “Given that he’s seen you workout more than I have.”

Leonard shivers slightly. “That’s just too damn creepy,” he mumbles. “Jocelyn watches me. You all watch me.”

“We don’t watch you all the time. It bothers you being under surveillance,” Jim says quietly.

“I guess it does. Especially when you can’t get away from it.”

“But you can, Bones. California,” he reminds him.

“When?”

“In a month.” Jim hesitates, catching a flicker of desperation in his eyes. “You gonna make it?”

Leonard is quiet for a moment. “I'll have to. But you were right, Jim. I needed that med.”

“I have more for you,” he says, not giving him an option. “I’ll stash it at our dead drop. Take it twice a day.”

Leonard doesn't smile but his eyes light up and it's enough. “What would I do without you?” he says.

“Survive,” Jim says simply. Because it was true. Leonard’s parents were gone. As was his sister. But he had lived. “Because you’re a survivor.”

He doesn’t imagine the way Leonard’s breath hitches.

Leonard leans towards him and cups his jaw. Jim meets him halfway for a kiss.

The soft touch and love spilling from his eyes remind Jim that every single damn thing he did for Bones was worth it. Everything.

Even #381.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you think/suspect/anticipate as this story unravels. Next update will be Monday, for sure. :)


	5. In the Dark I Have No Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Anton Yelchin. You will be greatly missed. 
> 
> I hesitated sharing this chapter as I’d promised, but decided to post in the spirit of honoring Anton’s life and his brilliant work. I adored his portrayal of Chekov, and will continue for years and years to come, as I know we all will. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate the support! :) 
> 
> Thank you, Junker5 and Diamondblue4, for betaing and encouraging me with this story. :-) 
> 
> We’re back to “present day” with this chapter, back with Jocelyn, Leonard, and the grenade.

There’s nothing quite like your life flashing before your eyes. The thoughts that pass through your mind when you're about to die. Regrets and hopes, mundane memories you never thought were so important were suddenly the things you didn’t want to let go. It’s a moment that seems to go on and on when, in actuality, it lasts for only a second.

Leonard has experienced this far too many times for his liking, each time consecutively more mind-numbing than the first. It is no wonder that his own perception of dying has numbed.

Dying. This isn't the way he’d thought he’d go. But it’s close enough. In the field. Something to do with Jocelyn. Not even dying instantly, but slowly. As if life itself wanted to revel in his pain, mock all of his precise but futile efforts of revenge, dangle them before his eyes.

He is numbed to dying more than ever before. (He’d seen Jim’s lifeless body, hadn’t he?)

But a warm body lives and breathes on the bed before him. For her sake, he has to try to live.

The grenade will explode in five seconds, seven seconds tops, given the grenades Jocelyn preferred to use. If he tries to throw the grenade out the window, he’s a dead man, along with Joanna. Even if he somehow manages to lift her off the bed, they’d be injured. More than likely, critically wounded.

These thoughts begin as Jocelyn holds the grenade in her hands, then tosses it on the bed. They come to a rapid stop as he makes his decision.

He has only one clear choice and he takes it as Jocelyn disappears through the window, leaving destruction in her wake.

He rushes forward and heaves Joanna off the bed, not even taking the time to put her over his shoulders. He’s dragging her half-conscious body through the bedroom door, ignoring her cries of confusion, practically pushing her ahead of himself when the blast comes.

The force propels him towards the wall opposite the bedroom. Joanna’s screams blend with the loud, hideous cacophony of a wall exploding. His head rams into the wall of his once pristine hallway, splintering wood and drywall hitting his back. As the world around him crashes, he’s only aware of pain, then a brief, unpleasant darkness.

He stirs, awareness returning, his ears ringing. A rough groan escapes his lips. He’s on his stomach, face pressed into debris. He grimaces, tries to get on his knees but he can’t work his right leg properly. There’s a small piece of wood sticking out awkwardly from his calf, mimicking the knife that he had lodged in Petrick’s.

He wants it out and curls his fingers determinedly around the wood. He grits his teeth, tasting the foul mixture of blood and sweat in his mouth.

His hand slips when he registers more pain at his back. “Fuck,” he groans, knowing he has at least a few first-degree burns.

The shard is slippery with blood and twists painfully before he manages to pull it out completely.

“Damnit,” Leonard hisses, consciousness ebbing.

He throws the debris aside and pants through the pain, blinking furiously to keep himself awake. His leg still won’t bend like he wants it to and he’ll have to stand, injured or not. It was the only way he could make it out of this cursed house alive and for good.

He pushes himself on his elbows first before rolling himself on his back. The world still spins. He wheezes, managing a few short breaths before coughing through the dust swirling around him. When some of the dust finally clears, he remembers.

Joanna.

She’d been right beside him. And even without looking, he knows that she isn’t beside him anymore.

He forces his way off the floor because he can’t stop. He never stops. Never.

He bitterly recalls Jocelyn’s claim that she hadn't wanted Petrick to harm him. What she’d insinuated, that she didn’t want him hurt at all, was completely false. She’d only wanted the opportunity, the damn luxury, to hurt him for herself. He was like a drug for her. A craving. And despite being ‘himself,’ and his cover blown, he’d set himself up for the same thing he dealt with undercover.

She’d hurt him, used him, bent him to her will. He’d been a fool to even think that there was the possibility of compassion in her heart.

His vision is blurred, jagged. The ringing in his ears has faded but his head pounds like someone has taken a hammer to it. He can’t really see the broken pieces of their house that he has to move with his bare hands, even though they’re right in front of him. He picks them up haphazardly to clear his path as much as possible, moving forward only because he has to. Adrenaline shoots through his body, overshadowing all thoughts of checking his own injuries. He’s focused on one thing. The purple and black mass of curls and spiked hair several feet down the hall, the pale face staring in fear up at the ceiling.

“Jo?” He rasps to get her attention. He’s hurrying, scraping his hands, his knees, even his chin in the process. “Shit,” he breathes, staggering through the debris again.

He’s not going to make it through to her as fast as he wants to. He resorts to dragging his right leg and holding his left arm close to his chest. He wants the medical kit at the safehouse now, but they’d be lucky to get there without him falling unconscious in the car first.

Besides, who knew if the safehouse...was actually safe.

He reaches her and clenches his teeth to keep from keeling over. “Jo?” he pleads, staring into her eyes. She’s looking off to the side, eyes glazed.

He places his bloodied hand on her face, gently slapping her cheek.

“Leo...” she finally whimpers.

The nickname breaks something in him he’d stuffed away for so long.

“Leo,” she whimpers again.

He doesn’t have the heart to correct her.

“Come on, kid,” he whispers brokenly.

“‘Kay.” She stares wide-eyed around her as he hauls her to her feet. “Where...she go?”

“Flew out the window,” he grunts, checking her over when she seemed to be able to nearly stand on her own. “Like a witch.”

She smiles, appearing to like that imagery. “On a broom?”

Her smile, and the humor behind it, feels oddly misplaced. Was she going into shock? At least whatever Joce had drugged her with was warding off some of the pain.

He has another fleeting thought that his maniacal girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—could be kind when she wanted to be. Like she’d been with him, even though she’d made sure he begged or worked for every good thing in their relationship. Does she have a heart, after all? She’d anticipated that he was a good enough agent to avoid dying by a simple hand grenade, as effective as they usually were.

He frowns at his conflicted thoughts, the obvious twistedness of them. His frown deepens when he discovers a large gash on Joanna’s shoulder. It would require at least a dozen stitches. He’s furious when he sees her wrist bent at an odd angle. He checks it as gently as possible, watching her as he does. She’s oddly unresponsive, doesn’t try to pull away. He thinks— _hopes_ —it’s just a sprain.

They’ll need a hospital—but not the one where he works. He couldn’t endanger more of his colleagues. He also didn’t want to find out if he had more enemies. She needs her shoulder tended to, but the safehouse would have to do. As long as the right supplies were on hand, an extensive medical supply cabinet. And if he could remain alert enough to guide Sulu or Chekov through the basic care for her injury.

He calls softly to her, bringing her focus on him. “Joanna, help will be waiting for us on the street, just a ways down. We have to hurry.”

He rips a section of his shirt, attempting to make a sling for her.

“Who?” She giggles, staring at her own wrist.

“Friends of mine,” he mutters, tying the fabric at her shoulder.

He guides her wrist into the sling. “Try not to bump your wrist, okay?” She nods weakly. He moves them towards the stairs, but she pouts at him.

“You don’t have friends,” she says.

“I have a few,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“I want to meet them,” she whispers, as they make their way painstakingly down the stairs. “Da—ad,” she calls out.

He knows it’s the result of a drug and shock combined as she draws out his name in a nonchalant manner.

He only grunts, wanting a bottle of whiskey to take the edge off. He's barely holding on enough to function, to both walk and guide her. He can't focus on talking. He’s silent as they get to the bottom of the stairs. She's not as wide-eyed as before, making him wonder if the drug Jocelyn gave her was already fading.

She hisses with each step and leans her head on his shoulder, like she used to do when she’d been on the cusp of becoming a young woman.

“You love me,” she whimpers.

He swallows harshly, forcing himself to speak and comfort her. “I do, kiddo.”

“Even my pierced tongue,” she sniffs. “And nose.”

“It's your trademark,” he says quietly, halting them both as they turn toward the living room and the front door. She tips forward on her feet, but he holds her back, keeping her from falling. There’s a lamp on the floor in their way. “Watch your step.”

She giggles breathlessly and steps over it in a dramatic fashion.

He can’t hold back his relief when Sulu shouts his name before crashing through the door.

“We got here as quickly as we could. The place is clear,” Sulu says, taking Joanna’s good arm and wrapping it around his own shoulder.

“Be careful,” he says hurriedly.

“Where is she?” Sulu asks, meaning Jocelyn.

“She took off,” Leonard remarks, squinting through the darkness. “Ev’rything okay?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Sulu snorted. “But since you asked, Pike contacted us again right after you left, needing help to take care of Jocelyn’s units in the three surrounding cities. This was enough distraction for the mission to go as planned and the other teams are moving out, too.” Sulu says tersely. “He asked for Uhura, too, but she’s dragging her feet, just like us. She doesn’t want to leave us high and dry, though I don’t know where she is exactly. She didn't say.”

Pike would not like that she was sticking around, but Spock had influenced Uhura, no doubt. Leonard wasn’t that surprised she was disobeying orders.

What was happening to this once solid team?

“What happened?” Sulu rushes them forward across the grass.

Leonard breathes heavily, unknowingly taking a moment to answer. “Grenade.”

“She tried to kill you.”

“Maybe,” Leonard breathes through his nose, wavering on his feet. They’d reached the vehicle. Sulu gently guides Joanna into the backseat. She took up most of it, unable to sit up. “She knew I’d make it. Barely.”

He grips the door, steadying himself.

“McCoy?” Sulu asks, hand stretched out to help him.

He’s thinking. Or trying to.

“Safehouse,” he croaks. “Joanna’s wrist...risk of infection in her shoulder.”

Sulu nods.

This was a bigger distraction than Jim’s death or their own attempted extraction earlier. In fact...it was as if…

Someone had orchestrated absolutely everything. Predicting his actions. Predicting Jocelyn’s. Predicting that some of the team would stick around to help them.

But, why?

His next course of action had to be unpredictable. Going to the nearest safehouse...wasn’t wise.

“Wait,” he rasps.

He stares intently as possible at Sulu, wanting his full attention.

“Yes, sir,” Sulu says, eyes anxious as he looks up and down the street.

Leonard blinks heavily, the pain creeping into every crevice of his body. “499 Fairview Drive. In Sallough City.”

“Zat’s an hour away.” Chekov says, exchanging a glance with Sulu.

“And safer,” Leonard adds. “Someone killed Jim. Someone is trying to kill me. To kill Joanna. We go where I say we go.”

Sulu hesitates, doubt in his expression as his gaze drops to Leonard’s arm and leg and then to Joanna, passed out in the backseat. But he agrees. Chekov nods, as well.

“Sallough City it is,” Sulu says.

Leonard bends his bruised body and takes a seat in the car and leans against the inside of the door. Awareness dims. When the fog of pain and fatigue lessens, Joanna’s head is on his lap. He doesn’t know who’d guided her to lie there like that or who closed his own door, but within seconds, the car is moving.

He leans forward so his back isn't touching the seat but soon, he's too tired to care. He hears his own heavy breathing, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. The rest is a warm buzz around him. When the car next stops, two pairs of hands pull him out. He puts one foot in front of the other, mumbling Joanna’s name.

He can’t be like this, so out of it that he couldn’t get himself out of this mess or keep the others safe. Deep undercover had strengthened him in some ways, but in other ways...it had made him weak.

But he can't be the weakest link. Their team can't afford one.

When they reach the door of the darkened one story home on an abandoned lot flooded with lights on the north side, he grinds his teeth together and shrugs their hands away. He jerks his head towards Joanna.

They understand his silent command and turn back, giving all their attention to his daughter. He lifts a small, concealed hatch near the front door and enters the eight digit code, peering into the screen that slides in place in front of him. He blinks once before the computer scans his eyes and completes the recognition sequence.

The door rumbles open, revealing years of disuse. He walks into the first room of the house that looked more like a bunker, noting every cobweb and peering into every corner. His eyes miss nothing. It’s the way he’d left it years ago, established as a fail safe. If matters with Jocelyn turned into a disaster and he needed to pull Joanna from the boarding school and take her somewhere even safer, far from the reach of the FBI. It was on a need-to-know basis, and Sulu was the second person he’d told.

Spock had been the first.

He wonders if telling Spock had been a mistake, though he’d had an instinct about the other man from the beginning. Usually his gut feelings were right, but he has to second-guess himself now or he’d get nowhere—except six feet under.

The only person who knew about this place could have killed Jim.

He needs something else to think about and takes out needles and medication first, giving himself a painkiller then cleaning and stitching his own leg. He works efficiently and in a manner that is worthy of his leadership. But he ignores the fact he has a concussion, that he has several burns on his back. He makes himself sit in a chair at the table for another moment as they bring her in.

“Close it,” he says evenly.

Sulu shuts the door and three additional, heavy doors close automatically, bars and sheets of armor covering the windows.

Still carrying Joanna, Sulu and Chekov turn around slowly to stare at Leonard. “You have a Bat Cave?” Sulu asks, eyes sharp.

Had it been another day, a different situation, Leonard would have at least rolled his eyes at that.

“I needed a safe place,” he grumbles, instead. “These doors won't be opening from the inside or outside for a few hours,” he says, getting up out of his seat. “Not unless I enter a series of complicated codes. And I'll be a little preoccupied.”

“We’re fine,” Sulu says.

It won’t be comfortable for Joanna but he inclines his head to the larger table. After the other two men place her on the table, Leonard’s jaw twitches. Her face is too pale, her body far too still.

He’d failed Jim. He’d never told the truth when he should have just trusted Jim. He couldn't forgive himself for that.

He couldn’t fail another person he both loved and had vowed to protect.

He scrubs his hands in the sink, feeling their eyes boring into his back. He silently pulls on a pair of gloves. Beside them, he continues to prepare what he’d need to fix Joanna’s shoulder the best he could without a hospital. He picks up the disinfectant and cloth. The risk of infection too great to wait any longer.

“I’ll need another pair of hands,” he says roughly as he carefully cleans the injured area.

He needs a nurse. Or another surgeon to take over. A damn hospital. But, he'd instructed his team through surgeries before. Sulu was a quick study. He’d also attended nursing school for two years before switching his major. He'd have to do.

He glances up at Sulu and Chekov. “The other will watch the door. Security cameras are on the bookshelf.”

“I’ll help,” Sulu chimes first as expected. “But first, we should at least disinfect those injuries on your back and find you a new shirt that isn’t shredded to pieces.”

“Wash your hands thoroughly,” Leonard says, ignoring his request, “then put on the gloves.”

Sulu’s eyes harden. “Sir, with all due respect—”

“—we’re wasting precious time,” Leonard says, drawl thickening darkly.

To his credit, Sulu merely nods and goes to the sink. Chekov immediately goes over the tall bookcase, finding the series of buttons.

He glances back at Leonard. “Zis vequires a code.”

“Zero-four-four-three-two,” Leonard says automatically.

As soon as Chekov pulls up the screens, a siren blasts through the room.

Leonard wants to groan. He wants to be steps ahead of disaster.

“ _Red Alert. Intruder_ ,” a computerized female voice drones from the speakers in the building. “ _Intruder_.”

Sulu stops scrubbing his hands and looks grimly at him. “That’s not supposed to be happening, is it?”

His stomach churns. “No,” he admits.

He flips his head to look at Chekov, who has already expertly zeroed in on their unexpected visitor.

On screen is a hooded man, his face turned to avoid the security cameras. He’s wearing loose clothing, some sort of black tunic over dark gray leggings, sturdy, lace-up black boots completing the strange ensemble.

Leonard blinks several times as the man just...waits.

Just fucking stands there like he’s selling Girl Scout cookies.

Like they’re supposed to just let him in.

They can't ignore this, but he has work to do. Though the injury looks less invasive than he’d first thought, she’s lost blood. She’s his daughter.

“Does anyone else know about this place?” Sulu asks.

“Spock,” he states grimly.

Surprise flashes across their faces.

“You don’t trust him,” Sulu observes after a pause. “You should. You're trusting us.”

“Why should I trust him?” he grits. “He won’t face the damn door. He knows...” He clamps his mouth shut, frustrated.

Spock knew better than to toy with him, if it was Spock.

“Chekov, push the red button,” he demands crispily, annoyed that he’d been delayed. “It'll take care of him for awhile.”

Chekov’s brows raise. “Vat does ze button do?”

Leonard rolls his shoulders, staring at him. “It will send a high-voltage, low current electrical discharge through his body to override his body’s muscle-triggering mechanisms, dependent on his skin type and clothing....”

Joanna’s moan cuts him off. He hushes her, stroking her forehead.

“You’ll shock him,” Sulu states.

He nods absently, fingers roving over his daughter’s head as she stills. “It’ll put him out of commission a bit and he’ll have one helluva headache when it’s over, not to mention the severe muscle cramps immobilizing him.”

Sulu winces. “But, if it’s…”

“It might not be Spock, and I can’t afford to open the door for the big bad wolf,” he mutters. “Not that I know if it’ll work, anyway.”

“Sort of like your front door?” Sulu deadpans.

Leonard rolls his eye in irritation. “I might have borrowed the equipment from Chris six years back.”

“Borrowed?” Sulu echoes.

“You remember the breach in Beck Hill?”

Sulu’s mouth drops. “That was you?”

He looks impressed when he shouldn’t be. Leonard had essentially stolen from the FBI. Though he believes Chris had known all along, merely sweeping it under the rug since Leonard had already entered his pre-Jocelyn, deep cover life.

Sulu whistles. “Damn. That was a big job to pull alone.”

“Sir,” Chekov begins hesitatingly. “Mister Spock?”

Annoyed he’d been distracted with Sulu’s questions, Leonard looks hard at Chekov. “Do it,” he grits.

Sulu frowns his displeasure at the order but Chekov’s fingers poise obediently above the keys.

The computer drones overhead for a second time. “ _Recognition software now enabled. Intruder identifiable in ten seconds.”_

Chekov hesitates. “Sir…”

Leonard curses the delay. “Computer. Identify,” he barks.

“ _Ten...nine...eight…_ ”

The figure finally turns.

Leonard's breath hitches as the man’s hood falls to his shoulders.

“ _Seven...six…_ ”

A dark-eyed man stares right into the hidden camera, his hair overgrown and hanging over one eye.

“ _Five…”_

The visitor looks ragged, circles under his blood-shot eyes. But there’s no denying it. The man standing before them is the missing, rogue agent, whose eyes also reflect an unmistakeable, raw grief.

“ _Three...two...one…. The Intruder is identified as Mister Spo—_ ”

“Spock,” Leonard murmurs with the computer, deciding that they’d still take precautions.

They just wouldn't be as drastic.

Leonard sighs. He hates complications.

“You’re one lucky bastard, Spock,” he mutters under his breath. “Chekov, abort.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll update with two chapters tomorrow. :) Until next time.


	6. In My Darkened Corner the Stranger Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts so far. Thank you to diamondblue4 and junker5 for betaing this chapter. :)
> 
> Enjoy.

He gives Joanna an antibiotic and a painkiller to keep her comfortable. He temporarily wraps her wound to prevent blood loss. He waits on the anesthesia in case they have to move locations, and brings Spock in at gunpoint.

“Sit,” Leonard says, waving the gun at the chair he had prepared for this very purpose—determining the truth.

Spock quietly obeys, observing his surroundings as if he was inside this place for the very first time. Sulu places the patches on his skin, connecting him to several wires, and understanding fills Spock’s expression.

“A polygraph,” he states slowly.

Leonard sits at the table and sets down his gun within arm’s reach. He’s restless and begins adjusting the levels for Spock’s abnormally warm attire. “Yes.”

He looks intently at Leonard. “I do not lie.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Leonard mutters. “Someone wanted Jim dead, and I’m going to figure out who. Someone is also responsible for the breach, and I might as well start with you.”

“Let me assure you, Doctor McCoy,” Spock says evenly, “that this precaution, while understood, is unnecessary. I have other matters about which to speak with you.”

“That will have to wait,” Leonard says roughly, wiping away the sweat pooling at his temple. “I have to perform a surgery and quite frankly, you have rotten timing.”

Acknowledgment flickers in Spock’s eyes. “I apologize. You are injured.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps. He hates the reminder, which only exacerbates his discomfort.

Spock’s gaze falls softly on Joanna. “What happened?”

It’s obvious what happened, the gash he’d temporarily wrapped, her wrist in a sling.

“Couldn't pay the electric,” he deadpans. “Got kicked out of our damn house.”

“It appears you both have grievous injuries,” Spock says, shifting slightly in his seat when Chekov clasps the metal cuffs over his wrists. He clears his throat. “An explosion. More specifically, a grenade.”

“You could say that,” Leonard says, raising a brow.

Spock’s eyes darken. “I must talk with you about something of great importance,” he says. “This is a waste of our time.”

Leonard sighs. “I wouldn't be doing my job if I just trusted you. You disappeared months ago, Spock,” he says adamantly. “Without a word, and Jim…”

He chokes on his dead lover’s name.

The room grows too quiet, their collective pain suffocating him.

Turning his head away, he swallows harshly and breathes out, “Jim is gone. Murdered, according to Pike.”

“Indeed,” Spock says slowly.

“If you don’t mind, we need to begin.” Leonard takes a seat in the chair across from Spock and begins the polygraph.

Spock nods. “As you wish.”

“State your name for the record and the city in which you were born.”

“S’chn T’gai Spock. San Francisco.”

“Do you like meat?”

“No.”

“Do you smoke other than the one time you tried thirteen years ago?”

“No.”

“Are you in a relationship with Nyota Uhura?”

Spock blinks once. “Yes.”

“Is your mother’s maiden name Amanda Grayson?” It’s a question he hates to ask, but it’s a question that would evoke the most emotion. He needed something to challenge him.

Spock pauses. “Yes.”

“How long were your parents married before their deaths? Twenty five years or twelve?”

Spock’s breathing quickens. “Neither. Twenty-five years, six months, four days, three hours, and forty-nine minutes.”

Leonard narrows his eyes, feeling a prick of guilt for putting him through this. “How many years have you been working with the FBI?”

“I have been with the FBI for twelve years, not counting my recent year’s absence.”

Leonard’s knuckles whiten around his pen. “Are you the mole?”

Spock looks steadily at him. “I am not.”

“Do you know who is?”

“I wish I did.”

Leonard frowns. “Answer the question, Spock.”

“No, I do not.”

“Are you planning on killing all of us?”

“No,” Spock says, voice tight.

“Have you dreamt of killing all of us?”

“Yes.”

Leonard’s brows raise. “Interesting.” He holds back a strange reaction—laughter.

Jim would laugh. Thinking it preposterous. Spock? Never.

Leonard swallows. “Was it a recurring dream?” he asks, voice rasping.

“No,” Spock says, now green in the face. “It was...a nightmare.”

Leonard nods. That, he understands. “Have you had any other morbid thoughts about your team?”

“No.”

“Have you ever betrayed someone you trusted? A friend?”

Spock sits straighter in the chair. “No.”

“Has anyone ever betrayed you?”

“Yes.”

Chekov clears his throat.

Leonard doesn’t break eye contact with Spock. “What is it, Chekov?”

Chekov walks over to Leonard and holds out a photograph. “Zis,” he says quietly.

Leonard glances down at it and swallows, the image not quite what he was expecting.

It shows Geoffrey M’Benga bound and gagged in the backseat of Spock’s vehicle.

He looks sharply at Spock. “Do you want to explain to me why Doctor M’Benga is in the backseat of your car?”

“It is like you've done to me,” Spock says quietly. “A precaution.”

Leonard glares at him. “Answer the damn question,” he snaps. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he says, breathing out harshly through his nose.

“We’re done,” Leonard clips, shutting the polygraph off. Spock was hyper sensitive and this interruption hadn’t helped matters. He wavers on his feet, his head starting to pound as before. “Chekov, kindly go see what else Spock has in his vehicle for us. Perhaps another warm body?”

He’s not serious, but Spock's face freezes.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Leonard says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, Doctor, I am not,” Spock says stiffly, frowning as he glances down at his restraints.

“Unbelievable,” Leonard grits. “Another body?”

Spock shakes his head. “Not a ‘body.’ A live human being. You will want to look in the trunk,” he says as Chekov steps up to the door, waiting for Leonard to enter the codes.

The younger man halts and looks back at McCoy.

Leonard hesitates and turns to Sulu. “Go with him.”

“Yes. Sir,” Sulu replies.

Leonard walks up to the door and stands beside Chekov, taking two full minutes to enter his codes, the numbers he went over every night in his sleep.

The doors open. “Don’t let down your guard,” he cautions before Sulu and Chekov step out. “And I want to see these bodies walking in here in under a minute. These doors close in two.”

“Yes, sir,” Sulu says.

They disappear back into the night.

Left alone with Spock, Leonard wordlessly walks in a circle around him. Spock’s head dips, his body revealing a rare fatigue. It has always been his impression that Spock was used to minimal sleep, being a man of unmatched endurance. The very reasons he managed to be on the run successfully for so long.

Leonard starts a second walk around him. “Why did you come here?” he demands, startling the other man.

Spock glances warily at him. “I took the chance that you would come here,” he says, shifting his left arm under the restraints.

A logical decision, of course, but one that Leonard refuses to acknowledge. “That was an awfully big gamble. I haven’t been here in years.”

“Yet, here you are,” Spock murmurs. “I decided that if you were still alive, this would be one of several places to which you would flee.”

Leonard quirks a brow. “If?”

Spock sighs. “I am aware of the breach in security.”

“That breach,” Leonard begins heatedly, “is a fucking mole. A murderer.”

“And how do we know you are not the very one we seek?”

“I didn’t try to blow myself up,” he argues, halting in his tracks.

“And Joanna?”

Leonard towers over him, rage filling him at the suggestion he’d harm his daughter.

“I’d never hurt Joanna,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Never.”

Spock falls silent, seconds later a shuffle coming from the entrance.

Leonard can’t believe his eyes when Geoffrey M’Benga steps into the light, followed by Christopher Pike. Both men are bound, stumbling as they step forward. The doors close behind them.

He looks at Spock. “Care to explain?”

Geoff’s eyes widen with surprise upon seeing Leonard. He speaks, but still gagged, the words are muffled.

Realizing that they were pressed for time, Leonard doesn’t bother removing the gag. He has decisions to make, and fuck…

Spock had tied up Chris Pike. That was the last thing he’d expected.

Sulu guides the two men into chairs. Geoff’s eyes teem with fear, but Leonard braces himself to keep from feeling any sympathy. He looks away when he can’t.

“Spock?” he grouses.

“I went to the hospital, looking for you. I was too late.” Spock pauses. “You had already gone. I did find, however, two men engaged in a struggle. Pike was holding a knife but the doctor was unarmed. He accused your colleague of being in league with Jocelyn Darnell. The doctor pleads his innocence.”

Leonard immediately understands. His hopes crash to the floor that anyone he’d ever worked with has actually been a friend.

He’s never felt so alone.

Despair wells up in his chest as he stares at Chris, the older man’s eyes unreadable save for a hint of sadness in their depths. It heightens his fears, and he can’t help but glance at Geoff before making his decision.

He wishes he hadn’t. He is more torn than ever seeing his ‘friend’s’ confusion.

“McCoy?” Spock calls softly.

Leonard blinks several times, and catching the looks on the others’ faces, instantly berates himself for allowing his emotions to surface.

He isn't on his own—he can't make any mistakes. He is back with the team. A once solid team now distrustful of each other.

And he, undoubtedly, is their leader.

“Time to chat,” he growls. He walks over to Spock and releases the restraints. “I trust you—to a point. If this goes south, I’ll need your help.”

Sulu and Chekov pull the gags out of Geoffrey and Pike’s mouths.

Geoff coughs several times, clearing his throat. “Leonard...” He swallows, voice rasping. “I don’t...I don’t understand. What is this? Who are you?”

“I'm a man doing my job,” he clips. “It’d be best if you’re quiet,” he advises harshly.

“I wouldn’t trust him, McCoy,” Pike says with a dry cough. His face is red, eyes earnest. “If I hadn’t taken the upper hand, he could have escaped. I hate to think what would have happened if he had and is in league with Jocelyn. He knows where you live.” He swallows. “He could have followed you here.”

Leonard looks sharply at his mentor, the one Jim had always trusted. The man he now couldn't trust an inch.

“Both of you need to be quiet,” he demands.

Chris’s eyes are pained. “Alright, Leonard. Alright.”

Leonard starts with Geoffrey.

He needs Geoff because Joanna needs Geoff. Joanna needed a surgeon who wasn’t injured and exhausted.

“This is how it’s going to work,” he says slowly, picking up a scalpel. He twirls it in his hand, his dexterity mesmerizing the other surgeon as he expected. “You’re going to do everything I say or Sulu takes the clear shot that he has. And he never misses.”

He'd laid a few knives by his surgical tools and flips a particular sharp one several times. Faster, when the motion soothes him, gives him focus.

Geoffrey’s face flushes. A bead of sweat trickles down the right side of his face as he watches.

Good. He's intimidated.

“I don’t give a damn whose side you are on, or if after we perform this surgery you try to kill me in my sleep. You took an oath, did you not?” Leonard finally asks.

The surgeon hesitates.

Without warning, Leonard throws the knife. It whizzes past Geoffrey’s ear.

The man’s eyes widen, mouth hanging open in shock. “Shit, Leo,” he breathes.

“The oath, Geoff,” he orders.

“Yes, do no harm! I took an oath!”

“Do no harm—or I won’t miss next time,” he says. He walks past him, unable to hide the hitch to his step.

Geoff turns to look at the target, visibly shaken. Another centimeter to the left and it would’ve taken off part of his damn ear. Instead, it had landed cleanly in the slim wooden column behind him.

He pulls the knife out and turns around, looking his friend straight in the eye. This time, he feels no guilt when the other surgeon stares at him in fear. “Understood?”

Geoff makes a small noise in his throat and nods his head.

Leonard gives a clipped nod. “Good. Get up and scrub in.”

He returns to Joanna’s side, stroking her forearm gently with his gloved hand. She’s restless, in need of anesthesia before they start.

But he watches the others from the corner of his eye.

Geoffrey washes his hands and arms and puts on his gloves. He's methodical and careful but something is off.

Leonard doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Either his mentor is crooked or the one friend he’d had all these years other than Jim is stabbing him in the back.

Geoff’s hands are far from steady. In fact, Leonard could easily assume that he was scared shitless. Which meant...more than likely, he is telling the damn truth.

And Chris is over-reacting or…

Leonard shakes the thought away, but not before his team appears to sense his anxiety. Chekov and Sulu both frown.

“Sir?” Chekov asks.

Geoff glances over his shoulder from the sink, eyes flitting from Sulu to Leonard, as if surprised to hear he was in charge.

“I'm fine,” Leonard mutters darkly.

“What happened?” Geoff says, coming over and inspecting Joanna’s arm.

“Grenade,” he says, forgetting to keep the weariness out of his voice. Geoff looks at him in concern. “Jocelyn tossed it on the bed beside her and I pulled her away as fast as I could. But the wall...exploded…”

Geoffrey’s eyes snap up to meet his. “And you?”

Leonard’s slow and he knows it. He feels all eyes upon him as he takes a moment to find his answer.

“What?” he rasps, going over the first steps to fix his daughter’s arm.

His focus ebbs, flowing away, blurring the precise steps of the surgical procedure and morphing into a disjointed jumble that made no sense. His eyes want to close, allowing his body to fall into the heaviness threatening to swallow him. He rubs them, forcing them to stay open.

Joanna whimpers. He curls his fingers around her cool hand. “I'm here, kiddo,” he whispers.

“You're barely holding on, Leo. Your arm is stiff and…” Geoff’s gaze falls on his leg. “You're limping.”

Leonard runs a hand over his face. He was?

“I'm fine,” he lied.

“He has been limping since the explosion,” Sulu says.

Leonard glares at him. He is doing no such thing. “It's a flesh wound.”

“You can't perform this surgery, Leonard,” Geoff says quietly. “You probably have a concussion, too.”

“The hell I can't do this,” he barks. He pulls himself up and dares them all to defy him again. “There's no one else.”

Geoff glances at Spock.

Leonard’s tongue is too thick to ask why the hell _his_ friend seems to trust _him_ , a stranger.

Spock nods. “Doctor McCoy, I must also suggest that this is not in the best interest of your patient.”

Leonard closes his eyes, not believing what he's hearing. “Fuck you,” he whispers. “She's my daughter. Geoffrey, hand me—”

Geoff grasps his hands, holding them on the table. “No, Leonard. Sit down.”

“No.” He narrows his eyes at Geoffrey.

He must have stared too long. Something nags at the back of his mind.

Was he seeing things? The surgeon’s eyes. They weren't...right.

“You can't do this,” Geoffrey urges.

“It’s not a matter of can’t, Geoff. I have to,” he whispers. He kneads his forehead. He’d deny that he was too hurt until his last, dying breath.

“Leo...” Joanna mumbles, her eyes fluttering open.

They all look at her. They look at him. A million questions in their eyes.

Leonard can't explain why his daughter calls him Leo. He can't fucking explain.

“Leo,” she cries when she finds him in the room.

He sinks into the chair beside her, all of his carefully constructed defenses crashing down.

“Shh,” he croons as he hovers over her.

“Where...are we…” she asks drowsily.

“Somewhere safe,” he soothes, giving her a small smile.

He'd promised them that he'd keep her safe.

God, he wants it to be safe. He wants it so badly.

He wants... _Jim_.

He bows his head, the grief he'd kept at bay threatening to resurface.

What if he surrendered to his despair? To his injuries? The grief? The loss? What would it do to him? Would he finally find release, even if it meant someone placing him in a secure mental institution?

“Leo, just listen,” Geoff says in a hushed voice.

He rests his hand on his shoulder. The comfort is all that Leonard needs and he leans into it.

“Just...sit,” Geoff murmurs. “I promise that we’ll get help for her.”

“No,” he says weakly. “You don’t understand. I have to do this. I have—”

“Why?” Spock asks abruptly.

Leonard bites back a dark laugh. “Isn't it obvious? She's my daughter.”

“Yet you are adamant that you are in charge of any treatment for her. Are not physicians forbidden to care for family members?” Spock's eyes narrow. “What are you hiding?”

“Yes, tell us,” Chris says from behind him.

Leonard stiffens.

“We’re here, seemingly at your beck and call,” he continues.

He hates the tone in his mentor's voice. He lifts his head. He doesn't look back.

Something is wrong.

“What are you hiding, McCoy?” Chris asks softly.

“Nothing,” he says, wondering what Chris’s game was.

Chris knows who Joanna is. He knows, because Joanna is also Sparrow. He doesn't have to egg him on like this. He knows. Leonard breathes unsteadily.

He knows _most_ of it.

Five pairs of eyes stare at him in silence, a few pairs of eyes filling with distrust. Including Sulu’s. Chekov’s. Spock’s.

“The name,” Geoffrey says slowly. “She called you Leo.”

“She's injured,” he defends himself quickly.

“Your daughter calls you by your first name?” Spock asks.

“Is this your plan?” Chris’s voice is tense. Angry. Convincing. “Gathering us all here? Lying to us?”

He turns and stares at the man. “What the hell are you getting at, Chris?”

Chris gives him a look he can’t interpret. “You brought us here, made us believe you were the victim. Like you always do. It's a pattern with you.”

“What?” he asks incredulously.

What the hell is he suggesting? Like he always does?

“You like being the victim. It gives you a different sense of control on one hand. On the other hand, you also get to surrender yourself to a beautiful woman,” Chris says.

He can't believe what he’s hearing.

“The hell I like it,” he whispers, nauseated that Chris is even suggesting those things. When Jocelyn returns from her special “trips,” when she needs to clear her mind and destress, her actions go far beyond any BDSM used behind closed doors. It's why he’s had to resort to taking Ativan.

He can't even describe half of what he'd experienced to Jim. The stuff that nearly drives him to insanity when he’d reached a state of exhaustion. That nearly drives him to begging for her to stop. But he can’t beg. He has to act the submissive, compliant partner in order to gain her trust.

“How could you...say that about him?” Joanna cries, tears slipping down. “He hates her! He fucking hates that bitch!”

Leonard blinks, sees no good if she fights for him. “Joanna, you’re hurt and in shock,” he gently reminds her, willing his voice not to shake. “Please, kiddo, you need to calm down.”

Her eyes swollen, she stubbornly shakes her head. “They don’t know, Leo. They don’t understand!”

“Leo,” Chris muses. He gets up from his chair.

The others let him get up. Leonard can’t believe what he’s seeing when Spock nods to Chekov, who in turn releases Pike’s cuffs. Hadn’t they been questioning Pike a moment ago?

“Never knew you could have such a quick change of heart,” Leonard deadpans, looking straight at Spock.

He hopes and prays he didn’t imagine the flicker of guilt in those brown eyes.

“All that she's done to you. All of it, Leonard,” Chris says smoothly. Leonard shakes his head, trying to focus, but the exhaustion and pain hits him so hard he can barely stand. “The pain. The humiliation. You enjoy it too much. It’s like a drug for you, so you hung around for more. Then you saw your chance, to free her, go back on your own word before we took her and her entire operation down. You ensnared us into your trap. But first, you took Jim out of the equation. Then, you wanted her to escape, so you didn’t act as an agent worthy of a badge. All because...you like it.”

A shiver goes down his spine. “That's not true,” he says hoarsely.

He likes Jocelyn’s sadistic hands on his body, molding it to her desires?

He fucking hates it. He hates himself for putting himself in a position where he faces it on a weekly basis. For allowing Joanna to know that it happened to him.

“Isn't it, McCoy?” Chris counters, a thoughtful look on his face. “I wondered why it was taking you so long. Five years, Leonard,” he calls softly. “Five long years.”

Leonard closes his eyes, willing all those years of abuse away. Wanting a clean slate. His freedom returned to him.

Freedom.

It’s hard to imagine something he hadn’t touched in years.

If he could start over. Keep Jim from dying. Save Joanna’s shoulder from healing improperly. Keep her from harm forever. Keep himself from spiraling down uncontrollably. He would have let go of his burning desire to destroy Jocelyn from the very beginning before the FBI—before Pike—had known about it and given him this deep cover mission.

“I wondered about you before, but now it's clear,” Chris says. He pauses and cocks his head. “She's conditioned you. You're compromised, McCoy. And it’s on me. I should’ve seen it.”

“I did everything I could to apprehend her,” he says, voice waning.

It doesn’t sound like him and he has to take several deep breaths to refocus himself, get his bearings again. He doesn’t like to talk about Jocelyn. About their personal life. He never has.

The room spins.

“Did you?” Chris asks.

Leonard feels like he's suffocating as he remembers the scene. Coming up the stairs. The nostalgic music. Luring him to her. Her voice. Her urging. Her, maybe caring for Joanna after all. Him, believing that she cared for him despite her actions.

He'd literally followed her lead, not even trying to shoot as he stepped into the room.

Was Chris right? Had he let her get away? Had he been that conditioned, not even realizing it?

It all clicks in his head and he feels the color drain from his face.

Chris sighs. “You have your answer.”

“Noooo,” Joanna moans.

“I wish it didn't have to be like this, McCoy, but you leave me no choice. Spock, take him into custody,” Chris orders.

“And Doctor M'Benga?” Spock asks.

Chris peruses Joanna before returning his gaze to Geoffrey. “He was only protecting himself. I admit...I was overly cautious. However, if he's amenable to the idea, we’ll have him treat Joanna’s arm while we consider our options regarding McCoy.”

Leonard immediately saw through the lie—Joanna’s arm was just an excuse. Chris was keeping Geoff around because he knew too much. Not only that, but he had already convinced Spock and now, the others, that Leonard was the prime suspect for Jim’s murder.

“She needs surgery,” Leonard says automatically. “Not later. Now.”

“It’s not your problem, McCoy,” Chris states evenly. “Spock,” he prods.

Spock starts for Leonard, cuffs in his hands. He stiffens and steps back. He can’t let this happen. He’d never get out. He’s about to take another step, twist himself around and grab one of his knives—when Chris lifts his hand.

And aims the Glock straight at him.

He sucks in a breath and freezes.

“No,” Joanna sobs, curling herself into a ball.

Somehow, Chris had obtained a gun. _His_. Right under his nose.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, Leonard,” Chris smiles sadly at him. “There’s nowhere to go.”

Leonard thinks quickly. If he fought back, he’d get shot. Worse case scenario—he’d die. Leaving Jo behind. Leaving her all alone.

Chris is right. He has to cooperate.

“Cuff him,” Chris urges, pointing the gun at him.

“No, you can’t,” Joanna cries weakly.

“Joanna, it’ll be okay,” Leonard manages. He winces as Spock wrenches his hands behind him, reading his rights. He pulls on his injured arm, twisting it.

Leonard cries out, unable to hide how hurt he really is. Geoffrey starts for him but is held back by Sulu.

Fuck, he curses silently to himself. His one fucking friend and he’ll most likely be killed by the morning.

“Dad!” she chokes out. “Don't let them do this!”

Ignoring her cries, they prod him along to the other side of the room where he’s pushed into a corner. He stands there disoriented and wavering on his feet, feeling as if he is going to pass out. He only half-hears a Spock’s sharp comment about taking him to the field office and Chris’s subsequent reply, which is abrupt, angry, and clearly against the idea.

Chris’s hands force Leo down. His body flops to the floor, thanks to the carelessness of his captor, and he hits his head against the wall for a second time. If he didn’t have a concussion before, he surely does now. He groans, his body forcing him to remain still. He’s too weak, too stunned to move, but someone gently guides his head to rest on the hard floor, a harsh contrast to the other treatment he was receiving. He tries to catch his breath through the pain, and when he’s able, he looks pleadingly up at his friends for understanding.

He gets none. Instead, he’s met mostly with cool eyes and distant demeanors.

Dammit, how had this happened?

He'd done all he could in the position he was in to stop Jocelyn. To rescue Joanna. To put Jocelyn behind bars. To tear down her operation, to take down every contact.

 _Fuck_.

How the hell had this happened?

Chris Pike was the mole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did just go there, yes. 
> 
> *Hides* 
> 
> I adore Pike, absolutely love him, but...here and now? For this AU? This is where we're at...
> 
> Please...review? :) Will update again soon. More questions will be answered.


	7. Bound by the Life I Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel inclined to give spoilers for this chapter. :) It’s a flashback of sorts three years ago and is in Jim’s POV. Warnings for more oblivious Jim, characterization, character growth, backstory, and...ahem…**whispers**...smut.
> 
> If you've caught the various movie references since the first chapter, you get extra credit. For instance, Jocelyn on the windowsill and escaping through the window was directly influenced by Selina Kyle’s escape in The Dark Knight Rises. (Yes...my other fandom love is the Dark Knight.) There were two nods to the reboot Star Trek films in the last chapter in the dialogue and other I haven’t mentioned. There are more nods to come. I even have a two-in-one reference (I feel quite accomplished!) in a future chapter (not this one). If someone catches it—and its irony—I will shower them with hugs and kisses. XO. I kid you not, that one was like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, because it has so much to do with the story's plot, too, so someone please notice it! ;-D Some nods could be best described as parallels, including Leonard's “five years with Jocelyn,” which is like his own “five year mission” as in Star Trek. That number wasn't chosen arbitrarily. Please note that I am not putting these in here just for kicks—they are carefully planned and appropriate to the story.
> 
> Sorry this chapter came later than I said it would. I was making myself finish Chapter 14 before posting this one and then I also added a few things. Okay, so I’m NOT done with Chapter 14 yet, but I’m posting, anyway. :-) Thank you to diamondblue4 and junker5, for betaing this chapter and giving me words of encouragement that I sometimes just need to hear. THANK YOU. I appreciate you both very much.
> 
> I’m not sure this chapter will answer a lot of questions yet but it will hopefully make you reconsider things you’ve read so far. And create more questions. *cues spy music and evil laughter* Enjoy. :)

( _Three Years Ago_ )

 

Jim jogs up the front steps of the Pike residence and enters without knocking. He drops his key on the petite stand in the entryway and shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on one of the nearby hooks. The mail is on its usual tray on the shelf, but unopened. It’s unusual, for by this time on Fridays the maid has dusted the hallway and rid it completely of clutter.

“Hello?” he calls out, his voice echoing down the sparsely-furnished hallway.

When no one answers, he frowns and walks hesitantly down the hall. Had he come too early for his debriefing with Chris?

He had planned on having more time to be with Leonard, but...well, that time had gotten cut short for good reason. Or a bad reason. Or, sort of go—

Jim sighs. Definitely a bad reason.

When the meeting with Leonard was cut short, he’d used the remaining part of the reserved hour by running laps, feeling lonely and inadequate. Hell, he still felt lonely and inadequate.

How would he ever live up to his father’s legacy if he couldn’t manage this important assignment? Revealing to Leonard what he was unknowingly a part of? Convincing a surgeon and his daughter to agree to Witness Protection? This is what he’d been trained to take care of and if he let this get him down, he probably didn’t deserve the promotion Chris wanted to give him at the end of the year.

“Hell-ooo?” he calls again.

He was anxious to talk with Chris. He usually felt better about himself and his place in this world once he did. Though, Leo was providing more of that for him each day.

Still, Jim would appreciate a new perspective, considering his boyfriend had stalked off without a word.

Tennis shoes squeaking, he strolls down the hallway, peering into a few of the open doors. He’s tempted to crash on the overstuffed couch in Chris’s study, but the door is closed.

He stands back, hearing muted voices inside. He can make out a few words—“convince him” and “it’s time”—but quickly shuts them out. It doesn’t sound like an argument, but he knows he’s eavesdropping on something important. Just as turns to leave, the door creaks open.

Number One steps out and smiles easily at him as if she knew he’d been there all along. “Good morning, Jim. Would you like something to eat? Claire is keeping them warm for you.”

He smells the pancakes but fights the desire to ruin his diet. Leonard was always after him about eating better and Jim loved him so much, he’d started thinking about quitting his addiction to sweets.

He shakes his head. “No, but thank you.” He smiles at her. “Watching the waistline.”

Her laugh trickles lightly in the hallway. It’s a soothing sound and Jim relaxes, deciding maybe he would pull up a chair in the kitchen later.

“If only the rest of us would be so inclined,” she muses. “Well, if you change your mind, they’ll be there,” she says, glancing at him sideways. “So, I hear there’s someone who caught your eye. Finally, our boy is in love.”

He’s shocked that Chris had mentioned Leonard to her.

“You know...about that?” he asks. He gulps, feeling the saliva slide down his throat like expensive whiskey. Fast and hard.

He coughs several times in his hand.

“Don’t tell me you’re still bashful about dating, Jim. Would you like a glass of water?” She pulls the purse off her shoulder and looks at him worriedly.

He clears his throat. “No, I’m fine.” He breathes slowly, glancing down at the floor. “You know that I’m seeing him?”

 _Seeing him secretly?_ he silently adds.

“Leonard? Oh, I know about a lot of things,” she says airily. “I’m not a mother, but I always wanted to be one. And then...Chris took you under his wing. It was like I’d gained a son, too.”

He gives her a furtive glance and watches as she tucks her hair behind her ears. She peers into one of the mirrors hanging in the hallway, lightly rubbing her cheeks before deftly putting on her lipstick.

He blinks. The only way she could possibly know anything would be...if she was an agent. A fact that...Jim had strangely never even considered. And Chris himself had never even hinted that she was. How, after all these years, had Jim been oblivious? The only logical answer was that she was an agent involved in clandestine operations, overseen by Chris. Or, overseeing those operations herself, as well as Pike.

He hears the shuffle of paper in the study and tries to act naturally in front of Chris’s wife. Chris would never just tell his spouse details about his job, would he? Everyone on their team knows that mum's the word on anything that had to do with Leonard Horatio McCoy, surgeon, civilian, and boyfriend to a deadly spy. Especially Chris. Which indicated that she was further up in the hierarchy.

Disconcerted, he wants to speak with her but Chris comes to the doorway.

Chris glances between his wife and Jim, brows meeting in the middle. “Something I missed?”

“Just look at him,” Number One says breezily, lips curling up into a knowing smile. “He can hardly talk about the good doctor.”

“God, am I blushing yet?” Jim asks with a groan.

Chris chuckles. “I waited so long for this,” he says, sending him a warm look full of fatherly love. “I’ve always been worried about you, taking up your father’s legacy. You have a gift, but you need a little more guidance. This will ground you, Jim. I can already see it. And in a few years, you’ll be taking my place. It’s perfect timing.”

Number One stills her movements and stares quietly at her husband. “I will be by your side, whether or not you’re out there with me in the field—or here, where you can take care of your health.”

Chris give his wife a kiss. Jim watches them, his real family. The safest part of his life since the death of his father. Abandonment of his mother.

“I’m counting on that,” Chris says.

She returns the kiss and heads toward the front door. “It was so nice seeing you, Jim,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“You’re leaving?” Jim asks, surprised.

“I have a doctor’s appointment,” she says. She stops in her tracks and angles her body, adjusting the purse on her shoulder and narrowing her eyes at him. “Don’t let that sexy man of yours slip through your fingers.”

Jim just grins and waves goodbye.

“Come in, Kirk,” Chris says, beaming at him. He waves a hand at the couch that Jim wants to steal and take back to his place.

Jim walks over to it and sinks into the seat with contentment, leaning back with his arms stretched out along the top of the couch.

Chris rounds his desk and sits on the couch opposite Jim. He leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. Jim recognizes the fatherly concern in his eyes and prepares himself for an inevitable series of questions.

“Feel up to talking about it?” Chris asks.

“Talking about what?” Jim asks, playing dumb and giving himself a few more seconds to collect his thoughts.

“That bad, huh?” A knowing look crossed his mentor’s face.

“He didn’t take it well,” Jim confessed, running his hands along the tops of his thighs.

He doesn’t want to say much more, but since Leonard is a part of his mission and Pike his superior, there isn’t much choice. He has to report.

“He left in a hurry,” he continues, recalling the stricken expression of McCoy after Jim had made the announcement.

What was it he’d said to him while they looked at books about nineteenth century poetry?

‘ _She’s the woman we’ve been after for awhile. She was responsible for your parents’ death, Leo. We suspect she was directly involved with the car crash that took your sister’s life.’_

A car crash seventeen years ago that Leo had barely survived and his little sister, Donna, had not survived at all. Leo had scattered her ashes on the Atlantic. After he’d recovered from his own minor injuries, including a broken arm and shattered eye socket, he’d been forced to have reconstructive surgery as well as plastic surgery to conceal the myriad of facial scars and multiple other scars on his body.

It had altered his very appearance.

Leonard had mentioned all of this to Jim only one time, after he’d had noticed a few faint scars on his neck that Leo had never taken care of. Telling Jim had cost him and he had never approached the subject again.

Leonard was unlike anyone Jim had ever known. He’d somehow managed to carve out a separate life for himself from his ill-fated past. His mysterious air might have been the first thing about McCoy that Jim had fallen in love with.

Leonard was strong. He was a survivor. He was haunted. He was an abused man.

And Jim had thrown it all back into his face.

Of course Leo had hightailed it out of the library while the whys tumbled out of Jim’s mouth. Jim would have done the same, maybe throwing a punch in the process. Not only was he a man and a victim of domestic abuse—now he was dating a psychopath. A woman who killed for money and power, even sport. At the very least, a woman so evil she’d laid waste to everything and everyone she touched. But she was also smooth, always and perfectly covering her tracks.

After Leo had darted away, Jim face-palmed himself, paid his overdue fines of fifty cents, and trudged out of the library and down the street to his car in well-deserved misery. He’d no choice but to tell Leonard, and they’d have to discuss it later.

“I know it was hard. I’m sorry, Jim,” Chris says.

Jim nods and offers him a weak smile. Chris’s eyes reflect the wisdom and understanding he always expected from him. He breathed easier, knowing that this man was in charge. No one else—save for Jim—knew the intricacies of this mission. When Jim had the time, he spent hours going over the details, forging new ways to weaken Jocelyn’s full-scale operation. They couldn’t start with her, or they’d lose. They couldn’t pick off her contacts one by one, weaken their assets, or she’d scatter the ones they knew about, forcing them to start from scratch.

They just didn’t have the time or the manpower. So, with Jim’s help, and the Intel gained over the past two years, Chris had formulated what appeared to be the newest and best course of action. Taking her contacts down in quick succession via one single, electronic paper trail they themselves had influenced Jocelyn to take. Modifying algorithms, which was once headed up by Spock, and now Chekov. Assigning agents to monopolize each of the two dozen banks she used. Setting up a single Domino Effect that would not only cause her contacts to distrust her, but pinpoint their locations when they came out of hiding.

Jim would be the first to admit that he wanted to be in Chris’s shoes. Captain of this ship. The leader. That was, until he’d met Leonard.

Jim’s father, George Kirk, had helped run this department for ten years, gaining the respect of hundreds. It had operated like a well-oiled machine.

Until one mid-summer afternoon.

After receiving an anonymous tip, his father had apprehended a suicide bomber on a school bus downtown. In the process, he’d saved hundreds of lives—many of them children—all within this very city. He’d died in the line of duty on the day Jim was born, also leaving a wife and another young son.

Leaving a legacy that Jim had fought to this very day to live up to.

Jim had once envisioned himself taking the reins of this entire mission. The entire team. Now, he struggled with his desire to spend the rest of his life with someone he’d met just twelve months ago. Ironically, one year to this very day. He wanted both—Leo and this job at the FBI.

“Look, Jim. He’ll come around,” Chris says, breaking his reverie. “We’ve watched him for so long, I’m confident that I can predict his actions. I’m damn sure you’ll be hearing from him today.”

Jim swallows back his guilt. He had yet to confess to Leonard that he’d secretly followed his movements much of the past year. But, Leonard was an intelligent man. He’d realize it for himself soon enough. He could only hope that he would forgive him and, at the very least, understand that it had been done for their safety and for the greater good.

“If he’s not so threatened knowing who she is,” Jim says quietly.

“You told him what he needs to know—and he’s the type of man that will succeed,” Chris says firmly. “He wants to help us. You told him to play it cool. He’ll do it.”

Jim is quiet.

Chris stands and moves to sit beside him. He leans close and squeezes his knee. “He’s smart, Jim. Resilient. With him by your side, you’ll both succeed.”

Jim sighs. “He didn’t agree to go. At least...not yet.”

Part of him was relieved. The selfish part of him that he probably got from his mother, a woman who never even sent him a damn card on his birthday.

How could he lose Leo as soon as he’d found him?

Jim scratches his head. “Just...don’t you find it a bit strange that he’s living with—”

Chris cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Jim, you’ll find out that this life has many strange things to experience. And many things that aren’t guaranteed.”

Even with only a couple of years under his belt as an FBI agent, Jim could heartily agree. He’d also lived quite recklessly right after high school and had seen his own share of harsh realities long before that. He’d put those on his mental running list of “ _Things He’d Never Share With Anyone, Not Even in a Million Fucking Years_ ,” a list that was already rather large. But, having a steady job. Pike and Number One welcoming him with open arms. All of that was changing him. He felt himself mellowing. Almost like he was losing a part of himself. He couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing—or a bad thing.

“And in this line of work,” Chris says softly, “I can only guarantee you that this—Leonard's situation—won’t be the strangest.”

“I want to get back to the house as soon as possible.” Jim takes a deep breath. “Maybe he’ll come later. I think...I think I should wait.”

“Makes sense to me,” Chris says reassuringly. His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Our talk can wait, son.”

 

oOo

 

Jim changes his mind about returning to his apartment so soon. He’s on edge and jittery and takes it out on his teammates. Uhura graciously advises him to go home early, but he doesn’t. He stays late to punish himself and give them both time to think. Chris orders him to leave at eight o’clock.

On his way out the door, Scotty hands him tickets to a Beastie Boys concert that is two months from now. It does make his ride home a little brighter but as soon as he walks into his apartment he detects the faint aroma of something sweet in the air.

He immediately draws his gun. As he inches along the wall to the living room, he hears a beautiful, drawling voice.

“It’s just me.”

“Dammit, Bones.” Jim exhales a strangled breath, “Thank God you’re not a normal intruder.”

He sags with his back against the wall, gun limp at his side.

“I’m not an intruder,” Leonard says indignantly. “I used the key you gave me.”

Turning his head, he spies Leonard in the corner. He’s in Jim’s favorite chair with his legs crossed and smoking a cigar. Looking relaxed and content.

It was a good look for him. Jim vows silently to Leonard that someday, he’d wear it more often.

Someday.

But if Leonard was this upset and resorting to smoking cigars, he needed something healthier to take the edge off. Or something that works more efficiently. An anti-anxiety med. And if this were a normal situation…counseling.

“And where did you leave this key?” Jim asks, knowing Leonard certainly couldn't carry anything suspicious.

He grunts. “Under a loose board beneath your elderly neighbor's begonias.”

“Those cigars aren’t that good for you, you know,” Jim says softly.

“I haven’t had one of these in years,” the doctor drawls. “It’s actually my second since I sat in this chair.”

He looks up at Jim sheepishly.

Jim has to smile, because it was the last thing he expected him to do.

“Wanna talk about today?” he asks.

“No,” Leonard mutters, shooting him a dark look. “I’m not doing it, Jim. I'm not leaving.”

Jim walks forward as Leo takes another drag. “I know. I just want you to be safe, Leo.”

A strange expression grew on Leonard’s face. “That’s the first time someone has thought that about me in a long time,” he says with a dry laugh.

The confession saddens Jim. “Then it’s about time that changes.”

“You’ve been protecting me? Us?” Leonard asks quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap. “Watching out for Jo at school?”

“Yeah, Leo. We have,” Jim says softly.

“She...she wasn't like this in the beginning, Jim,” Leonard says, eyes pained.

“I know,” he says quietly.

“I’d never have agreed to Chr—” Leonard stops abruptly. He frowns at the cigar. “Never would have agreed to move in with her had I known. And I mean that.”

Jim nods, drawing a careful breath. “And this…what we have, you and I…”

“I understand,” Leonard says. He looks up and nods. “You don’t have to say another word. You found me and I fell in love and so did you...and that’s that.”

Jim halts in his tracks. Was it really going to be that simple? No one just...loved. Did they? It’s a question he’s been asking since he was seven—when his brother had left him and his mother had forgotten about him and he'd lived in a series of foster homes.

Tears prick the backs of his eyes, but he manages a smile without crying. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

He’s a few feet away from him but Leonard shoots to his feet like a tiger, cigar dangling from his fingers.

He’s genuinely shocked when Leonard takes him in his arms and kisses him with a desperate edge he’d never expected from him. Jim had watched Leo being submissive so often, he’d almost forgotten...that he really wasn’t.

He freezes, nauseated that he’d even think this way about Leo. It doesn’t matter to him if Leonard prefers one thing over another. It’s the fact that Jim, as his boyfriend, had actually confused what Leonard was being forced to do—with his true self.

While caught in this horrific thought cycle, Leonard’s kisses grow more urgent and Jim has to catch up to him. He finds that he can’t and becomes pliant in his arms. Leonard’s hands slide down Jim’s arms and firmly holds him against his body. His teeth clash against Jim’s mouth, nipping him. Another moment and his mouth dips down into the curve of Jim’s neck.

Jim sinks into his lover’s arms with a moan. “Bones...”

“I need you, Jim,” Leonard says with urgency, wrapping his arms around him like a cocoon, kisses forgotten for a few seconds.

“I know you do, Leo,” Jim whispers, slipping his arms around his neck tightly. He kisses his cheek. “I know. Jocelyn is stuck in traffic for another hour. Her GPS might have also malfunctioned, thanks to the team.”

Leonard makes a noise in his throat, like he’s pleased. “Let’s make the most of it, then,” he says roughly.

He instantly pulls back and attacks Jim’s mouth as before, hands on either side of his face. Leonard’s hard length rubs against the fabric of Jim’s jeans, and Jim is not far behind.

Leonard rolls his hips against Jim’s. The friction increases and breathless, he presses his hand against Leo’s chest.

“Bed,” he orders.

They don’t get too many chances like this. Jocelyn demands too much of Leonard to make things easy on them.

But this time is theirs. Leonard is driven and Jim only wants to take care of him. As soon as his clothes are off and Leonard’s pants drop to the floor, he reaches into the drawer of the nightstand and grabs the lube. With that same glint in his eye, Leonard turns him over on the bed so Jim is on his knees.

Leonard quickly prepares him, almost not preparing him enough, before sliding in behind him. He breathes lightly through his nose, breath hitching as Leo puts his hands on his hips, fingers splayed along his ass. Leonard sheathed inside Jim, they move as one, like they always do, the doctor’s grip causing Jim to buck into him.

He groans in pleasure as Leonard approaches at a different angle and touches his prostate. The sensation only lasts a few seconds. Leonard slips out from him momentarily. He nearly whines from the loss, although he likes the challenge of waiting. The doctor leans forward, his shadow hovering over Jim.

“I love you,” Leonard whispers, words playing along his ear like a caress.

In need, he can't reply coherently. He nods, an impatient whine escaping this time. He swears he can hear Leonard’s smirk from behind him as he abruptly slides back into Jim’s hole. It sends him straight into his headspace. He thinks he manages an _I love you, too_ before Leonard’s hips roll into him.

It’s sweet but not gentle. It’s desperate but not rough. It’s not perfect but...it is. It’s a contradiction. It's them. It’s Leo...and simply wonderful.

They don't come at the same time. Leo is first, and Jim doesn't mind. He prefers Leonard having that moment, when so much is demanded from him by Jocelyn. He can't do much for him, but he can do this. What he found works best for them. Obediently waiting, even if he’s on the verge and the delay agonizing, like it is now. So after his lover comes with a cry, he waits for Leonard’s urgings. Several shuddering breaths wrack Leo’s body before he leans over him again.

“You're so beautiful, Jim’,” his lover whispers raggedly in his ear, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Jim moans as Leo lightly touches his cock, precum leaking from its tip. He teases him by pulling away, and his lips ghost playfully across the sweet spot of his neck. It sends a jolt of pleasure down his body and he nearly careens, barely managing to hold himself back and wait for a quiet drawl.

“And so good to me, Jim. So beautiful like this, waiting for me, aren’t you?” Leonard murmurs breathlessly, knowing full well he’s just at the edge.

Jim nods in agreement, desperation rising in his chest. All he can think about is his release, but Leonard grows quiet and slowly kisses his sweet spot again. He wants to jerk his hips forward in an effort to find his lover’s hand but he can't seem impatient. He can't for Leo’s sake and curls his toes, willing himself to remain still.

Leonard presses kisses downward, along the curve of his neck, stopping at his shoulder. He’s deliberate and purposeful, like he's savoring a delicacy with all that he has. In this case, a delicacy that is Jim’s bare skin. Just when he thinks he can't last for another second, his lover’s warm fingers fold around his length. He nearly cries out with relief.

“It's time. Come, Darlin’,” Leo quietly drawls in his ear. “Come for me.”

His cock twitches in Leo’s hand, the soft drawl giving him release. His body responds to his lover’s voice and touch, and he spills into Leonard’s skilled hand. The brief wait is worth it. The delay is what he needs, the order what Leo knows he needs to feel wanted and safe. It's what they _both_ need. He gasps, vision whitening, his arms shaking as his orgasm overwhelms him. He doesn’t want it to end but he can't hold himself up. Leonard’s arm tightens around him, preventing him from falling. He’s sated, giving in to how Leo pleasures him, basking in his attention.

“That's it,” Leonard tenderly praises him as the waves of ecstasy ebb. His fingers dance gracefully along his back as he admires him. “So good, Jim. So beautiful, Darlin’.”

Spent and contented, Jim goes slack in his arms. He could listen to him whisper those words forever. He wants to listen to them for days on end. But he's also exhausted. He’s exhausted by work, by the strain he faces on a daily basis, worrying about Leonard’s safety, as well as Joanna’s. He exhales a rough breath, mind beginning to clear. At least when Leonard was here with Jim, like this, it meant he was safe.

As if sensing his need to rest, Leonard helps him lie on his back on the bed. His body sinks into the mattress. There are no more words spoken between them. But he catches the wild look in his lover’s eyes once more as he bends down to kiss him. Leonard wants this all over again. And soon. So does he. But, they’d simply run out of time.

Leonard pulls away. “I'll be back,” he says softly, caressing Jim’s cheek.

He climbs off the bed and goes into Jim’s bathroom for a washcloth. He returns and cleans them up like he always does. After he slips back onto the bed, he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs another cigar.

He draws Jim into his arms. Jim traces a circle on Leonard’s bare chest.

“Will you agree to it, eventually?” Jim asks into the silence.

He hopes for Jo’s sake that he does agree. She’s fourteen. Fourteen going on sixteen. At times, she even looked like she could be sixteen. Maybe even seventeen.

Leonard is quiet, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. “If I say yes now, will it destroy your operation?”

“We'd find a way,” Jim says, skirting the real question, just like Leo had avoided his.

“You know that's not how it works,” Leonard says, his low drawl thickening. “If I leave, she’ll know something's up and hightail it outta here. You’ll have to work another decade to get this close to her again. You need me. As a floater, like your captain said I could be if I refuse Witness Protection.”

Jim is quiet. What he said was true. But he can’t say yes for fear it would influence his decision. He reaches up to curl his hand around the arm that’s like a fixture around his chest, holding him tightly against Leonard’s body.

They both watch the hands round the clock for the last moment they have together before Leonard has to leave. Wishing that time would just stop.

Leonard finally sighs. “Kid, you can’t get rid of me this easily.” He presses a kiss against the top of his head, like a blessing. “I stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You ALL deserve at least a dozen of your favorite cookies for making the journey along this twisted path. :D I’ll most likely update again tomorrow or Saturday (after I finish chapter 14 LOL). I usually think of chapters for this story in ‘pairs.” Except for a few, like this one. That’s why you’ll get two chapters next time. I think the story will flow nicely with a double update. 
> 
> A small note about the cigar. I really don’t think McCoy would take up smoking, but for this AU and this particular McCoy, it's my opinion that the cigar ‘fits’ him. Occasionally. The poor man is stressed enough, being in the position he is in as an undercover agent, for one. I think this is a coping mechanism, and FTR, the habit won't last forever - he "is" a doctor and mindful of the dangers. I also believe he’s more conflicted than ever that he is keeping the truth from Jim, who he genuinely loves and adores. He’s also ‘bound’ by the truth of his past, which, for you, is still to be determined. 
> 
> I’ll post again soon. I’ve loved your comments - thank you so much for sharing your ideas and thoughts. Keep them coming. :)


	8. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting two chapters today. Here is your gentle reminder about various triggers - if you would like to know what they are, please email me at acandleind @ gmail.com (no spaces).
> 
> Diamondblue4 and Junker5- thank you so much for your support and help with this story! 
> 
> Thanks to all who are reading - your thoughts are both welcome and inspiring. I hope you enjoy this next installment. :)

Jocelyn’s eyes flash at Leonard from across the table.

The breath he’s holding keeps him focused.

A storm was coming.

“This?” she grits through clenched teeth, waving a hand over her plate of food. “Is not what I told you to order for me while I was away from the table.”

He feels a flicker of defiance, the urge to defend himself, but there’s a rage in her eyes she rarely shows in public.

“Get out of your seat, Leonard.”

He looks at her in as much shock as he can muster. Nothing she did surprised him that much, anymore. What was she going to ask him to do? Surely, nothing? Maybe send him away while she eats?

“Kneel,” Jocelyn says tightly.

He’s caught off guard. The shock is real now.

She’s asked him to kneel before, but never in front of other people. There are children at this establishment. At least one. A brown-haired child about four or five-years-old sits in a chair not far from him. She stares at him with woeful eyes. He thinks she wants to tell him something.

He'd listen but he has to turn his attention back to his alleged girlfriend, for he has two choices to make. Listen and bear the consequences. Or disobey and compromise his cover—and still bear the consequences.

He stands. His hands clench in indecision. Should he just once, let it all go?

The little girl clasps her hands on her lap and nods.

He blinks at her.

Does he know her?

She looks familiar but he isn’t sure. This is Spain, of all places. And a shady establishment, to boot. He realizes now why Jocelyn brought him here. To break him. Without the risk of being stopped in the process.

A figurative mask slides across his face to hide what he really thinks of the command.

The decision made, he walks over to the side of her chair, holding on to the table to lower himself to the ground. Once he’s kneeling, he bows his head in practiced humble remorse, but not before he sees the same child again.

This time she stands in front of him, and he sees the scars on her face for the first time.

Ugly, thick and pink rope-like scars that distort more than half her face and turn people's heads away. But no one seems to mind them here. He doesn’t mind them—except he wants to fix them for her. He’s a doctor.

That is why his heart is breaking for her, isn’t it?

His heart pounds so loudly he’s sure Jocelyn can hear it, and he’s at a loss. Jocelyn is ignoring the child but he can’t. He _knows_ her. He must.

He hopes it isn’t real anxiety that he’s feeling. But, he actually forgot what it is exactly that he’s supposed to do next after he kneels. How had he forgotten? How had he managed to get on Jocelyn’s bad side already today? This was supposed to be a vacation, and he’d wronged her. Made her angry. Embarrassed her.

Leonard’s throat feels like it's imploding. In her eyes, he’d been lazy. And maybe he really had been. He’d misordered for her. Would any other gentleman have forgotten such a simple request?

Probably not. Maybe he deserves this punishment.

He wants to slap himself in the face as soon as the thought crosses his mind. THIS wasn’t him. He was the man who was underneath the faked submission. The man who was controlling Jocelyn in little ways she didn’t even see.

_This isn’t real. Nothing with her is real._

He exhales lightly through his mouth, attempting to steady his breath. But, he can't ignore this slight change in her behavior that unnerves him. She’d never made a spectacle out of him in public before. One would think someone would stop her, but he hears nothing to suggest that anyone would come to his aid.

Her nails scratch painfully into his scalp as she demands in fluent Spanish that the waiter replace the meal with something else...and take Leonard’s meal away. As if on cue, Leonard's stomach rumbles.

The child looks sadly at him. Her eyes plead now for him to stop.

But he can’t. He’d made the promise long ago to never stop.

Had he promised it to her?

Jocelyn sinks smugly back in her seat. “You have a habit of making mistakes when I’m not here, don’t you, Leo?” she rebukes him when the waiter leaves. “You need me, like always. I’ll teach you how to order for me from the menu properly. This is our first lesson, dear. You’ll have plenty of time to consider what you did wrong before I carefully instruct you.”

He has a crick in his neck but doesn’t move. She sighs, petting his head, the strokes the only comforting thing about this situation. He closes his eyes, compartmentalizing her sudden kindness the best that he could, putting it into the vault that was labeled ‘twisted’ and ‘sadistic’ in his mind.

Jim claims the other vault but he won’t touch it now and risk tainting all the good memories.

He's on his own.

“Maybe this was too much,” she murmurs when his back stiffens. “It isn’t quite what you’re used to, but stay down, Leonard. Where you belong.”

He has nothing to look at while his head is bowed. Nothing to think about except the very thing he was doing. Kneeling.

The circles she's tracing on the top of his head mesmerize him. “I'm sure you're sorry for treating me this way,” she purrs.

He soon nods in agreement because he is sorry. He really didn't want to spend an hour groveling at her feet with an empty stomach. Her nails dig into his scalp like the sting of hornets.

“You can do better than this, Leo. Show me now,” she implores him.

He bends slightly under her touch, folding his shoulders inward. Using the pain to obey. Fighting her by fighting _it_.

The child is kneeling beside him, her hair hanging by her face. “You can do it, Leo,” she whispers. “You’re strong.”

They sound like words he might have told her before.

Her eyes are like her mother’s, he thinks. Warm. Happy.

How does he know her mother?

“Oh, such a quick learner. Aren’t you, Leo?” Jocelyn coolly prompts. “What do you say?”

He repeats to himself that he's the one in control of the situation, not her.

“It’s okay, Leo,” the child says softly. “I understand.”

“I can’t do it,” he says to her.

“You can,” she whispers. “It’s not you, Leo. It’s all pretend. Just like you said. Just like you told me.”

He takes a breath. _It's pretend_. “I'm sorry,” he says. “So sorry, Jocelyn.”

“And?” Jocelyn prompts.

He hates to say it.

The child stares widely at him. “Go ahead. You promised to take care of me,” she reminds him.

He had?

He adds breathless hesitance, brings tears to his eyes and a crack in his voice for show. “Please forgive me?”

“Good boy, Leonard,” Jocelyn leans over, placing her mouth next to his ear. She murmurs tender words of praise, eliciting a shiver from him.

He almost involuntarily smiles at the feeling. She knows he almost smiles. He hates himself for it.

“I forgive you.” She hums noncommittally.

The satisfaction she gets from his response is tangible. The feeling that she’s pleased with him oozes from her like a thick drip of syrup. A tempting sweetness that, if hoarded and used excessively, poisons the bodies and souls of those around her.

It had already poisoned his.

He doesn’t want it to poison this child’s.

He wants to fight his way out of this. Turn Jocelyn in. Stop giving Pike bits of Intel, anything he can get his hands on about her ‘friends’ and where’s she going. Screw the rest of the mission.

Return to his own life, if he’d ever _had_ his own life. Return to Jim. All of his own accord.

He was so hungry, he could taste the freedom.

The waiter brings an additional shallow bowl that Jocelyn places on the floor. When she releases him she points to the dish on the floor now inches away from his knees. “Now, drink.”

His ears are roaring but he sees her Cheshire-like grin. He can't ignore this request. He's already trained. She'd made it too public. There was no other option. Dinner would not be finished unless he’d performed the task.

He tries to ignore the little girl’s tear-stained face. This upsets her but he has no choice.

He leans forward submissively and bends over until his face hovers above the dish, his hands pressed against the floor on either side of his head, bracing himself from falling. Jocelyn brings her foot down on the back of his left hand. He cringes, but slips his tongue into the liquid.

He sputters immediately. He had thought it was fresh water because the heat was oppressive outside, but it's not water. It's soured milk.

He hesitates too long and her hand pushes his face into it. He chokes several times but feeling more pressure, her impatience with him, he laps it up the best he can. Like the dog she wants him to be.

When he's finished, the drops of sour milk slide down his mouth and chin and throat. He's a mess. His clothes have soured milk on them and he can't breathe without smelling it all over again. Without it coming up as vomit in his mouth. He somehow manages to swallow it back down before Jocelyn notices his weakness.

The child backs away, curling into a ball as she sits on the floor by the wall, shoulders quaking. He’s scared her, he thinks, as she cries. By what he’s become.

No one goes to her in comfort. No one comes to him, either.

Gasps finally rise out of a few of the other dinner guests around them, but Jocelyn makes him stay at her feet, crouched like a wet, foul-smelling, cornered dog. He’s humiliated as Leonard McCoy, surgeon. Infuriated as Leonard McCoy, agent. But the lines blur this time and he can’t separate one from the other.

She cleans him once they return to their hotel room, not even allowing him to touch the bar of soap. He’s made to lie on floor in the bathroom that night. He doesn't move for fear she'd find out and punish him more. He uses the time to exercise his mind, silently going over numbers and facts and plans and anything he can think of that will eventually destroy her and bring her to her knees. Even the names of those she talked to at the front desk of the hotel, going into the restaurant, the man at the market. Any of them could be her contact.

He swears he sees the little girl again, in the hours between consciousness and unconsciousness. He reaches to touch her scars. They look familiar to him, as if he’d watched fate carve them into her face himself. He wants to help her but she pulls away, disappearing before his fingers touch her face.

He’s left with loss settling in the pit of his stomach and the rest of the night he’s restless. Bleary-eyed the next morning, he can only squint up at Jocelyn in the bright light. She “wants nothing to do with a dog now” and barricades him in the entire next day with food and a cup of water to drink from.

At least it isn't a bowl.

He wonders if Jim had known about the event before he returned. He certainly looks like he did.

Leonard never mentions it. Neither does Jim.

Neither does Jim put creamer in Leonard’s coffee ever again like he used to do. Leonard's favorite way to drink his coffee. He never thanks Jim, save for the silent gratitude he gives him every time, instead.

He sees the little girl one more time, before he walks into his own house once he and Jocelyn return from Spain.

She’s on his front steps, watching them. Jocelyn walks right by her, without a word. Without a glance at the sweet but scarred face.

He’s affronted, because the child is still beautiful and also helpless. Leonard can’t help but feel compelled to stay on his porch. She’s so small, so slight. So quiet. Something in her eyes tells him she’d seen the world already.

A hello is on the tip of his tongue. Shouldn’t they finally introduce themselves to each other? But Jocelyn calls him in. He’s forced to leave the child on her own, her sad eyes dragging his gaze over his shoulder as he steps into his own prison. He hates it and vows to come back to get her later. He feels protective of her and would do anything for her. Absolutely anything.

Because he remembers now. She’s his little sister. She’s Donna. It has been so long since he'd seen her and—

Jocelyn must have missed the intimate side of their relationship. She’s in their bedroom, wanting and waiting for him.

He’s told to strip, and does, and barely has time to see her hand raise with a whip in it, before she brings it down on his bare ass on their bed. He twists the sheets underneath him to keep from showing weakness, to keep himself from tumbling off the bed in an effort to escape. He knows he has to stay strong. But he has to try, to save his sis—

Jocelyn has other plans for him. And when her cool hands grasp his ankles and spreads them apart, he’s forced to surrender even his hands and the rest of his body, and he sees a blindfold and rope in her hand and the glint in her eye, he’s undone and a scream rips through his thro—

Startled, he moves forward with an agonizing jolt. “No!”

“Leo, you’re okay,” a low voice quickly says.

“No, no more.” He tugs again, frantic. He wants to get away from her.

“Hold still, Leo,” the voice urges. “You’re safe.”

“Please…” he says, and if it’s more like a whimper, the voice doesn’t back away.

His head rolls and he’s sure he’s falling down a rabbit hole.

“Hey, you're okay,” someone hushes him, holding his head and guiding it to rest on something soft.

His pillow? Does he even have a pillow?

“You mustn’t try to move your head, Leo. You took a pretty bad hit.” The man pauses. “Two of them, in fact.”

Two? He’d seen one child. One.

“One,” he croaks. She’d been scared. All alone. Without him.

“Hey, McCoy,” the voice urged.

Was this a mission report? “Alone. Sh-she was alone.”

“No, two hits and you’re not alone,” the man says slowly. “You hit it at your house, Leo. And here.”

Where was here?

“Can you look at me?”

A light shines in his eyes. He flinches.

“One,” he rasps, averting his face.

The hand brushes his cheek, attempting to turn his head towards the offensive light.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“One,” he whispers again.

“Actually, three fingers. But that's okay,” the man says, light moving away for a moment. “I know you’re confused.”

“I saw her,” he says.

He sees her scars. They haunt him, always.

The man hesitates. “Who did you see?”

He can’t say and shies away from the light.

“It’s Geoff,” the man says. “Only Geoff. You’ve nothing to fear from me, Leo.”

The soft statement helps him piece things together. He glances warily down at himself. He sees the restraints, but his vision and mind blurs the restaurant, the scarred child, and the kneeling. His little sister and being treated like an animal, the sour milk his tongue laps up. This unfamiliar but soothing manner in which Geoffrey is talking to him—

He silently struggles while he stares up at his colleague, the images fighting each other for space in his mind.

“Give yourself a minute,” Geoff says quietly. “When we get you to the hospital, we’ll take x-rays first, see what’s really going on in that thick skull of yours.”

The vision morphs and he comes to realize what he’d seen. A nightmare. A bitter stroll down memory lane, reminding him of her cruelty at the restaurant and then the hotel that same night and once they’d returned home.

One of the most turbulent two weeks he'd ever experienced.

And the child...his baby sister, who’d been so innocent. Her innocence snatched away by the very woman he’d lived with, slept with, and deceived for five long years.

A dark, humorless chuckle escapes him. “Another nightmare,” he says. His life was full of them. “Imagine that.”

“Look at me, Leo,” Geoff says.

He wonders if Donna found her way home yet in his dreams.

“One,” he murmurs again.

“Leo?”

He doesn’t answer. He hopes she found her way home. He doesn’t want to endure another nightmare to find out.

“He will need a psych consult,” he hears someone else state adamantly.

A man sighs heavily. “Yes, unfortunately. He will. We will do this by the book, Mister Spock. Have no doubt.”

“You mentioned you have more evidence…”

“I can’t say anymore on the matter…not here.”

Leonard groans as the words drum in his mind, eliciting a headache.

“Here,” Geoff murmurs to him. “I found something in this security box of yours that will help. Good thing you were so prepared.”

He feels the pinch of the needle. He feels dirty and ashamed. He is ashamed.

He hadn’t even tried to oppose Jocelyn that night. He’d only done what she’d asked...because the mission depended upon Leonard gaining her trust. Fooling her to believe he was something he was not.

He wants to vomit—and get rid of the filth that is his memory and life and mission—and does so. His hands jerk up toward his face when he’s done which surprises him. The last time he knew, his hands were behind his back in cuffs.

His hands might be free, but he’s still kicked into the corner like a dog.

Something soft and wet touches his face and the dread he felt in his nightmare drags on. He breathes slowly, getting his bearings. He’d lost their trust. He’d lost the trust he'd so carefully earned and kept. He couldn't talk his way out of this one. And he sure as hell couldn't defend himself—and Joanna—on his own. His body had betrayed him. He was weak, maybe at his weakest.

“You have to sit up. Your shirt needs to be changed now, Leo,” Geoff is saying.

“What?” Leonard’s voice breaks the word into two syllables.

Geoff doesn’t reply but guides the shirt off and retrieves another. He can’t figure out if it takes a long time to accomplish this task or not, for the world spins around him but Geoff appears to move in slow motion. He hears voices but can’t identify them.

After some time, once he’s clean, Spock bends his knees to squat in front of him. He peers at Leonard at his eye level. “You’ve been in and out of unconsciousness for nearly eight hours.”

That almost wakes him up.

“No shit?”

He laughs dryly, not believing him.

The hell he’s been out of it that long. He’s still on the floor and everyone—

Everyone? Who was ‘everyone’?

“We cannot leave unless you open the door,” Spock says, the picture of solemnity.

Leonard stops his train of thought and takes a better look at his surroundings. Or, rather, the people still crowding in this main room of his armored safehouse.

He remembers now. They’re all here. Sulu and Chekov, Spock and Geoff...Chris...

He doesn’t see Uhura or Scotty, but maybe it’s better they’re not involved.

The despair he’d felt swells up in his chest and becomes something completely different and unprecedented. Beautiful irony.

His chest rumbles.

Maybe he shouldn’t let it happen, revel in how serious they all look, but what does it matter?

He breaks out in laughter.

“So…” He gasps through a hearty chuckle. “Let me get...this straight.”

Soon, he’s laughing so hard, he can hardly talk.

Chris sets his jaw and runs a hand through his ragged hair, clenching some in a fist. He stares hard at Geoff. “Did you give him the wrong medication?”

“No,” Geoff says quickly when Chris doubts him. “But you have to understand, he has been through quite a bit of trauma in the last forty-eight hours.”

Sulu sighs and shakes his head at Chekov. “I’d forgotten about McCoy’s odd sense of humor,” he murmurs to him. Chekov’s eyes are wide as he nods in agreement. “It always seemed to come out at the worst possible times, too.”

Geoff frowns and looks quizzically at the two men talking.

What shocks Leonard most was how worried Spock, and also Geoff, actually look for him.

“You need...m-me to unlock the...the door,” he manages through rolling, throaty laughter. “The damn d-door.”

“It is not a laughing matter.” Spock says slowly, gaze piercing.

Leonard stifles another wave of laughter by sighing dramatically. He points to the door behind them. “You’re locked in here with the accused— _me_ —and you need _me_ to get you out. If that isn’t funny, I’ll start drinking creamer with my damn coffee again.”

They don't laugh—and Geoff is visibly shaken by something he said—but Leonard triumphantly crows.

“My...own door.” He rubs his eyes with one hand to clear the tears. “My fucking door.”

“Leo,” Geoff says softly, kneeling beside Spock. “Listen to us. Joanna needs medical attention, and we haven’t made progress because the painkiller you gave yourself...actually knocked you out.”

He stares widely at his colleague. He’d never made a mistake like that before.

“Eight hours?” he repeats.

He knows the ramifications of that. Without waiting for a reply he attempts to pick himself up off the floor. He’s done with laughing but still thinks it was damn funny they were locked in here with him like children, but Joanna’s condition…she looks like death, lying there unconscious.

God, he doesn’t want to think of how much time has been wasted, of how her condition could deteriorate further because of him, if he didn’t man up.

He stands with Geoff’s help. Spock takes Leonard’s hands and cuffs them in front of his body

“Really?” Leonard grits.

“You are in custody, McCoy,” Chris says with a frown.

“And ya’ll are children needing permission to leave the building,” he says in a thickened drawl.

Sulu muffles a cough with a fist to his mouth. Geoff doesn’t bother to hide his smirk.

Disarmed that anyone found what he said humorous in light of the situation, Leonard jerks away from Spock. “I think I can manage this on my own,” he snaps.

“Very well,” Spock says, backing away.

“Let’s hurry this up, McCoy.” Chris inclines his head to Spock, who follows Leonard as he shuffles unsteadily to the front door.

“My own door,” he mutters loudly enough so Pike could hear him. “Just so you can lead me to the hanging tree.”

He fills the room with dry laughter that is sure to get under Chris’s skin. He’d aggravate Chris more but to enter his codes, he has to give his complete focus to the order of the numbers.

They swim before his eyes, anyway.

“Dammit,” he winces, momentarily forgetting a fifteen-digit sequence he needs.

Chris clears his throat. “Time's a wasting, McCoy. Anything that happens to Joanna is on you,” he says.

“I’m not being slow on purp…” Leonard suddenly stops and sighs exasperatedly. “Ever slam your head into a wall twice in the same day?” he asks sarcastically.

“He has a concussion, Agent Pike,” Geoff reminds him.

Leonard risks a look back at the surgeon, who offers a small smile.

The numbers flood back to him.

Just as soon as he’s done at the keypad and belatedly realizes there'd been a bit of blue in Geoff’s eyes, he falls for the oldest trick in the book.

There's a pinch in his neck from behind.

He staggers back, stung by the betrayal. “Geoff?” he accuses.

But he sees the needle loose in Chris’s hand seconds before he collapses, unconscious and into a ready pair of arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In TOS canon, McCoy has a sister named Donna Withers.
> 
> Please review! Your thoughts are wonderful inspiration.
> 
> Also, this story ain't over 'til it's over. This is a twisted journey. :)


	9. The Hanging Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your second installment of the day. 
> 
> Enjoy.

As he had predicted, he wakes up to a room with four white walls.

He's strapped to a bed. Handcuffed, the metal digging into his wrists. He’s exhausted and starving but more alert than the last time he’d peeled his eyes open to face his cursed world.

Taking advantage of this, he quickly takes in his surroundings, looking for anything that could help his cause. What his cause was, he wasn’t exactly sure yet. Things certainly weren't adding up. About Spock. Geoff. Jocelyn.

Oddly enough, the only thing that did make sense besides his vow to his parents was Chris Pike.

How could he have been so blind? Falling for what could have very likely been years in the making? Much like he’d been leading Jocelyn around on a leash, living a second life under her nose?

He continues to scan the room. He’s alone. There’s no clock on the wall, nothing but the bed and a few pieces of medical equipment. But there is a large, rectangular window. He shoots a glare into it. He has no doubt who is behind it, finalizing his demise.

Seconds later, Pike strolls in. A man he doesn't recognize follows shortly after him, then Geoffrey, pushing Joanna in a wheelchair.

“She should be in her room, resting,” Leonard determines with just one look at her.

Bandages cover part of her shoulder, her wrist wrapped and in a sling. Her face is drawn but she’s alert, like him. She looks tired, but her back is ramrod straight. She watches him with that expression she was so good at. The one that had gotten them this far. Aloof confidence with a side of sauce.

She’s every bit the fighter he is. More so.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. She’d lived with Jocelyn all these years, too. She’d witnessed more than she should have. At least it hadn’t been everything.

Chris starts. “We have a bit of talking to do.”

He nods to the man beside him, who comes over and releases his cuffs. Leonard slowly rubs his sore wrists, cautiously eyeing both men.

“Joanna,” Leonard says, a bite to his voice.

Chris cocks an eye at him. “She’s Doctor M’Benga’s concern now. Not yours.”

Leonard narrows his eyes at Geoff. First, Pike distrusted him. Now, Geoff was one of the them. Or at least cooperating. Forced to cooperate. Most importantly...

...he doesn’t have blue eyes this time.

Leonard lifts his head the little that he could and peers down past his chest at himself. An IV is attached to his hand. His arm isn’t as stiff as before but it hurts when he tries to move it. His leg is encased in a large, bulky cast from his foot clear to his mid-thigh.

 _How convenient_ , he thinks sarcastically.

He blinks up at Joanna, whose injuries he’d thought had been worse than his.

She shakes her head as if in a warning. “I’m fine, Dad,” she says quietly.

Chris hums in his throat. “Your daughter’s tough, McCoy. But you already knew that,” he says, watching him. “The surgery was successful and thanks to Doctor M’Benga, she’ll make a slow but steady recovery. You're surgery was successful, too. And you will also recover.”

Leonard lays back, silent. He couldn't believe a word he said, but Joanna did look better. Chris crosses his arm and sighs, but doesn’t approach. Instead, Geoff comes to the other side of the bed and begins monitoring his vitals.

The other doctor can hardly look at him without twitching. It’s as if he were afraid. Leonard would like to tell himself that it was just his imagination. He’d like to reassure himself that his mind wasn’t tripping like before from the concussion, but Geoff doesn't even speak a word of acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Geoff,” Leonard begins, voice rasping. “For helping me...the other day.”

Geoff’s hands still. He purses his lips and nods once.

“What day is it, anyway?” he asks in a rasp.

“Two days since...you…” Geoff swallows. “Came here.”

An uncomfortable silence follows.

He’d been unconscious for two days and who knew what Pike had cooked up since then. He had too many questions. Where exactly where they, for one. Was he going to kill Geoff when he was finished using him? Were the police looking for Geoff yet? And last but not least...where the hell was Spock?

Spock was too smart to fall for the shit Chris was throwing him, but he had built up a pretty good case against Leonard. They weren't exactly friends. Would Spock give him the benefit of a doubt and try to find them? He’d first thought that Spock would be on his side and fight for his release, but if he was here, it indicated that hadn’t been the case. How the hell had he gotten here in the first place?

Geoff inclines his bed and hands him a cup of ice chips. He doesn’t talk about Leonard’s injuries or look at him again like a friend or give any indication that he’d somehow been forced into this mess. One thing is for certain, Geoff isn’t an agent. He’s too awkward in this room. Too damn backwards with Leonard.

Leonard longs to hear that same reassurance he’d given him two days ago.

“Yeah, that door,” he drawls slowly, “Once Spock opened it up—”

“Quiet, McCoy,” Chris snaps, stalking up to him. His face is red, veins nearly ready to pop. “Or I will have Doctor M’Benga sedate you again.”

Leonard clenches his teeth. _Like hell._

Geoff glances nervously at Pike before frowning down at Leonard. “Right. Spock. He open—”

“Enough,” Chris snaps again. “We already went over this. Leonard is a risk to everyone here. Keep your conversation to a minimum.”

“I apologize. It’s been a couple of long days,” Geoff says, straightening his spine.

Leonard felt a flash of relief that in doing so, his colleague looked more like himself. Confident. Assertive. The surgeon and friend he knew from the hospital.

It’s a little disconcerting when Pike nods in agreement, his eyes also softening like he actually cares. “We will make this up to you,” he says to Geoff. “We will right this misunderstanding. I appreciate what you’ve done for our prisoner and his daughter.”

“Of course,” Geoff says, but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe Chris, either. He presses his mouth flat and glances at Leonard. “Your prisoner needs to eat.”

“In due time,” Chris says. “You may go.”

“But, he won’t be up for—”

“Now, Doctor M’Benga,” Chris says, pointing to the door.

“I took an oath,” Geoff raises his chin.

“I am aware of that, Doctor.”

Geoff’s eyes plead with him. “He is not well. I can't leave this room in good conscience. The head injury he sustained is serious, as you may recall. There was swelling on the brain—”

Leonard frowns. He didn't know that had been the case. But now that he thought about it, his head felt...drafty. Like he was missing some hair. He resists the urge to reach up and check, not wanting to draw attention on himself.

“—that only went down last night. He also needs something else for the pain, if you’d let me just give it to him. He needs to eat to get his strength back up, just like anyone else would. If you don’t allow me give him even basic care, he will be in no condition for a fair trial.”

Leonard bites his tongue. It was nice of Geoff to plead his case, but they all knew he wouldn’t be getting one of those fair trials, anyway.

“If you do not leave now, I will forget that I ever dropped the charges,” says Chris with a warning look.

Geoff’s eyes shift and a mask falls across his face. “Very well, then. I will be going over my patient’s file with your nurses if you need me.”

He turns to go. Leonard watches him retreat, a terrible feeling stirring in his gut.

Dread.

He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just watched his friend leave for the very last time.

“Everything I did, I did to protect Joanna,” Leonard says in monotone, now left alone with Pike and the other agent.

He knew everyone that worked under or with or over Pike. Except he didn't know this man. That alone was a clear sign of his situation. He knew what was coming. Chris hadn't followed standards. He hadn't followed protocol. He'd taken Leonard to an undisclosed facility. He'd taken him away from his team, knowing damn well Leonard wasn't guilty. That he'd put up a fight if he had the chance.

Leonard and Joanna were truly on their own.

“I hardly think this is going to help your case,” Chris says. “Tricking us to believe you're the victim? Falsehood after falsehood? That's protecting her?” His voice wavers with emotion. “You can't possibly think I'll fall for that now. Jim was like a son to me. You killed him.”

Leonard’s nostrils flare. He'd been accused of that very thing two days before. But, to be accused of Jim’s murder again and again, to feel the acute distrust and hatred another time, to be forced to listen to this faked emotion, rendered him incapable of responding with nothing but anger.

“Why don't you quit fucking around and really say what you brought me here for?” he snarls. When Chris swallows nervously, it’s obvious he'd taken the man by surprise by replying at all. “Wherever here is. It's certainly not your standard interrogation room. I don't see Spock. Or Sulu. Or anyone else who'd want to—”

Chris snaps his fingers. Bright lights flood Leonard’s face.

“Is that necessary?” he growls, holding his arm in front of his face to shield it.

After his eyes adjust, he sees that the snap had been a signal to reveal who was behind the divider.

Leonard stares in disbelief.

It was her.

 _Shadow_. The very woman who’d helped him all those years ago. Who’d shown him what it was like to be an FBI agent.

She stands behind the glass with her arms crossed. Unlike Chris, he could decipher nothing from her expression. She was calm. Serene.

 _Shadow_.

She had become such a shadow within the organization so early on that even Leonard himself had had a hard time keeping up with her.

After Jocelyn had fallen for his story of woe, coming to the aid of a poor, washed out doctor up to his eyeballs in gambling debts and a daughter in tow, he’d been too immersed in his deep cover life. He’d forgotten to keep track of her. A woman who seemed to know more secrets than the FBI as a whole.

Including his.

A shame. For now, it appears that she’s a part of Chris’s scheme.

Her involvement doesn't surprise him. She’d always walked the fine line between what was acceptable as an agent—and what was not. She could tie up more loose ends than Chris. Leonard had seen as much from her over the years.

“You lived with a woman who abused you, easily becoming the victim there also to fool us,” Chris says, turning to walk briskly the other way.

Leonard squints at him, his pacing difficult to follow.

Chris laughs dryly. “My best agent...reduced to...to this? A sniveling murderer? Who’s to say Joanna wasn't your accomplice?”

With that, Leonard snaps.

“Don't you dare bring her into this! You know she had no part,” he spat. “You wonder who killed Jim? Why don't you ask yourself that same question while looking in a fucking mirror!”

“Your mind’s twisted, Leonard,” Chris’s voice slides over him, sending a shiver down his spine. “It isn't stable. I saw you after she'd tied you up one day. You were exhausted but content. It wasn't abuse. You enjoyed it. Crawling to her at night, begging to be hit. Forgetting who you were—an agent there for a job, McCoy. A job. Not a life.”

All the nights he’d been at her mercy came back came back to haunt him, like a million bullets striking his heart.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses before he thinks better of responding at all. He breathes in shallowly. “Shut—”

The door creaks open. They both glance over as Geoff steps cautiously into the room.

Leonard blinks furiously. What the hell? Pike wasn't in the mood for games. Geoff was walking straight into the fire returning so soon like this.

“Sir, I will escort him—” the other agent begins to say.

Chris raises his hand to stop him. “No, Wilson, just a minute. I'd like to know why he is risking his own freedom for a murderer.” He looks at the returning doctor exasperatedly. “What is it?”

Geoff hesitates. “I believe that his leg is in risk of an infection,” he casts a furtive glance at Leonard. “I must treat it now.”

“I'll allow this one interruption, then you will not return unless I deem it appropriate,” Chris says.

“Of course,” Geoff says softly.

He's holding several needles and a white box.

Normally, something like that would hold Leonard's interest, but Chris is staring at him with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred.

“Would you like to amend your statement?” Chris asks.

“Statement? What statement?” Leonard spits out. “You haven't given me the opportunity to give one. Not like you'd listen to it, anyway.”

None of what Chris said was true. None. He hated what Jocelyn did to him. He hated that he'd aimlessly believed Pike and put himself in that position for five years.

He’d never liked it. He had nightmares about her, destroying his spirit, bending his will to hers in every way imaginable.

But Jim...Jim he had loved with his whole heart.

“This one,” Chris says and hands him a folded piece of paper.

He’s holding the ice chips in one hand and fumbles as he opens the paper in the other.

He reads it to himself, numb. It wasn't a statement. It was a threat.

_Who is Joanna? What else are you hiding, McCoy? Confess to all or she will be accused as your accomplice and her involvement as the agent called Sparrow revealed. I'm sure Shadow could come up with a variety ways to rehabilitate your lovely daughter. She might not be so lovely afterward._

Beads of sweat quickly form along Leonard’s forehead. He’s trained to endure many things but this...threatening his daughter after he already lost Jim…after five years of constant abuse…his head still felt thick, his usual sharp thinking dulled.

Did he have enough strength left to endure to help Joanna?

Leonard curls his lip into a snarl. One thing was for sure. If he were free, he wouldn't kill Pike. He’d torture him, making sure he died a slow painful death.

Maybe for five years.

“Who is Joanna?” Chris calls softly into the silence. “Besides a pretty face.”

Geoff turns his head to look at the teenager. She’s scared but Leonard only knows because her hand is wrapped around the side of her chair, knuckles white.

Leonard strains against the straps in rage and defiance.

To hell with his leg. To hell with himself.

Geoff flips his head back around and holds Leonard's wrist down. “You'll injure your leg. Please, try not to move, Leo.”

“Get your hands off me,” he snarls at Geoff.

Geoff widens his eyes and quickly pulls away. “Okay, okay,” he says, hands up in surrender. “I was only trying to help.”

Leonard’s strung so tightly, he nearly dumps his ice chips on the floor.

But he does drop the paper.

_Good riddance._

Geoff’s eyes follow it the entire way down to the floor.

A scream splits the silence.

“Dammit, Sparrow!” Chris roars.

As Leonard looks over at Chris, Geoff suddenly snatches the piece of paper off the floor.

Chris is bent over, face twisted in pain and anger. When Wilson looks like he's about to deliver a backhand across Joanna’s face, Leonard gnashes his teeth at him.

“Don't you fucking touch her!” Leonard yells from his forced spot on the bed, cursing the restraints at his legs.

Joanna moves forward in her wheelchair and kicks the agent in the shin. With a shout he lunges for her. She stands unsteadily on her feet and pushes the wheelchair towards him. He sidesteps to avoid it and with one reach, grabs her. He squeezes her arm, pinning her other arm to her side. Joanna cries out but stifles the cry, her usual stubbornness to not show weakness shining through. Leonard feels a swell of pride when she nearly escapes his hold with several quick movements despite her injury.

She’s not giving up the fight, and kicks at Chris.

By the time Chris looks back at Leonard, Geoff’s hand is curled around Leonard’s and he’s taking out his IV.

The surge of panic and helplessness real, Leonard’s breaths come out in gasps. He frowns at Geoff, who’s distracting him by taking out that damned IV now, of all times. Chris is furious, his actions unclear concerning his daughter. He can’t focus on both the needle in his hand and the man who wants to harm Joanna.

“Tell your daughter to stand down, McCoy,” Chris snaps. “Or this will not end well.”

Leonard doesn't hesitate. The command brings him out of his fog. Chris had already used her handle and so does he, to emphasis how much he needed her to desist.

“Sparrow, stop,” he orders. “It will only make trouble.”

Her body is tightly coiled. “Dad,” she insists.

“No, Sparrow!” he barks out. “That’s an order!”

She sets her jaw but she always listens to him. Always. After a pause, she nods. She sinks down into her wheelchair, biting her bottom lip.

Chris glares at her. “Do that again, and you'll be strapped down like your father. Instead of free and in that chair.”

Tension fills Leonard’s shoulders, but Geoff squeezes his hand, reminding him of the ice chips.

“If you let go, I'll set them aside for you,” he murmurs to Leonard.

Ice chips were the last thing on his mind, but he lets go of the cup and scowls at Geoff.

He can't understand why those eyes of his are fucking blue again.

“You were hiding something then.”

Chris’s voice was so soft, that Leonard would have dropped the damn ice chips again had they not been taken from him.

He closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

Games. That's all Chris wanted to do now. Play the damn head games.

“Just as you are now. It's over, Leonard,” Chris finishes harshly. “I've had enough with both of you. You must either explain who Joanna really is or disclose your full statement now.”

Leonard can't make heads or tails out of Chris’s demand. He'd thought this was about Jim. Pinning Jim’s murder on him. Accusing Leonard of compromising a mission. Maybe even two missions.

But maybe it wasn't.

Maybe...it really _was_ about Joanna.

“Joanna is my daughter,” he states evenly. “And you can go to hell.”

“You've given me your answer,” Chris clips. “We will no longer be generous, McCoy.”

“No. You can’t...do this to him. Leo…” Joanna cries. “Tell them.”

Leonard wants to hold her like he did years ago and shield her from the entire world.

“I can’t,” he says.

“Tell them,” she pleads again, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

He shakes his head. “No.”

It's the last thing he has left. Their secret. The only decision that is his and his alone. The only thing...Jocelyn hasn’t taken from him. That Pike cannot touch.

She doesn't look like her. And he doesn't look like him. They were a pair. An untouchable pair.

“You can't…” Joanna’s breath hitches. “You can’t protect me...forever.”

“I can try,” he says.

The sorrow in her eyes tears him in two.

“They wouldn't want you to destroy yourself,” she whispers, as if it were only them in the room. “They wouldn't. Tell them...so that they understand.”

He has no choice. No other choice. He just can’t see a way out of this one. ‘ _They_ ’ were no longer living and he has a promise to keep.

He can’t tell the truth. He can't allow Chris to know the truth. Joanna would be dead if he did.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” he croaks out, his purpose clear. “But Chris is right.”

He has to divert the attention all on him.

He allows everything that has built up—revenge, exhaustion, grief, submission, fear, and loss—bear down on him all at once.

He feels the weight like never before. If he wasn’t already dead because the light was gone from his life, he was dead inside now. This had done it.

“I did it.”

The false confession is a thick, rattling chain wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a pit of doom fashioned by Chris. Even Jocelyn.

Leonard looks up at the divider to include Shadow—but saw no one. The other room was empty.

She was gone.

“Leo, you don’t mean that,” Geoff whispers.

In the ensuing silence, he closes his eyes. If he were lucky, he’d be in isolation for the rest of his life. And that life would be heaven compared to the hell he’d lived with Jocelyn.

The words Jocelyn spoke to him in public made their way back into his heart. He needs her. He needs her to teach him—break him—so that Chris would believe his confession and Leonard himself would believe it. It doesn't matter what it will do to him psychologically in the long run, or that he is innocent. It doesn't matter that Chris had set him up, using his knowledge of Joanna to set him up and frame him for Jim’s murder.

For Joanna’s sake, he’d finally fucking break.

He embraces all of the horrors of recent years and looks submissively— _he feels submissive and compliant and hopeless save for this last thing in his power to do_ —into the very eyes of the man who had murdered Jim.

Only Leonard sees the flicker of triumph there.

“You want my statement?” he asks wearily. “Here it is. I, Leonard Horatio McCoy, did not act in a way becoming of an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I did it. I was emotionally compromised. I let her go…”

Leonard’s voice trails off.

He won't come out of this the same man. _If_ he comes out. He had stooped too low, confessing to do the last thing he’d EVER do.

Chris draws closer to his bed with a feline smile. “And?”

Leonard breathes in shakily and hopes that, wherever he is, Jim forgives him.

“Hours after I killed...James T. Kirk,” he states with forced conviction.

He also hopes that Joanna will forgive him for what he’s about to do next.

Because he can’t see Pike ever letting Joanna go. She's too valuable. Too twisted in this mess.  
He sees her six feet under. Just like him. Like Leonard’s other half of his heart.

_Like Jim._

He prays if she makes it out alive, she would accomplish what he'd never been able to do. And he knows that she will.

She is better than him.

“Jo, sweetheart,” he says softly.

She looks at him fearfully from under her lashes. Even from an early age she’d always seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Dad?” her voice trembles.

He wants to know she has a chance to love life.

Something he never had a chance to fully experience. Not really. Not even with Jim, as beautiful as that was.

“I’ll always love you,” he says.

He puts Jim aside. His own grief. Himself.

“No,” she whispers. “Dad—”

It's too late.

He rallies with a roar of desperation.

He reaches over and stabs the son of a bitch in the arm.

With the scalpel that he’d just swiped from Geoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: I'll post again in the next couple of days...the answers to some of your questions and the author's crazy end game will be revealed in good time. We are almost halfway done with the fic! Yay! I always seem to miscalculate but I'm pretty sure there will be twenty chapters.
> 
> I'd really love to hear your thoughts! Please, please review? Your comments feed my inspiration. :)


	10. Strange Things Did Happen Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates this time. I was going to just post two chapters, but changed my mind. I’m just going for it. This isn't the end of the story, just a collection of important chapters clumped together.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the wild ride that is ahead! This is the “do or die” moment for me as an author. :)
> 
> Thank you Junker5 and Diamondblue4 for betaing, giving of your time and energy to help me with this story! *Hugs them*

Leonard registers the blood-curling scream, the rage in Chris's eyes, but he’s more interested that Joanna gets a running start. Geoff had already tackled Wilson to the floor in one smooth movement, gaining the upperhand.

The path to the exit was perfectly clear.

“Joanna, go!” Leonard shouts to his daughter. “Now!”

Without a single glance back at him, Joanna spies Wilson’s gun, which had been kicked to the floor. She snatches it up and hightails it out the room, the show she’d put on with the wheelchair her fighting chance.

He watches her purple hair streaming behind her with mixed triumph, pride, and sadness. He might never see her again but when the stakes had been high, she'd done exactly what he'd told her do. And that was all that mattered. That was what she knew he’d wanted. What he’d trained her to do.

Satisfied his daughter could navigate this hellhole on her own even if she met with several agents on the way, he turns his attention back to Pike.

Even injured, Leonard is too strong for the struggling agent he'd taken off guard. He’d had years of hiding in the shadows and enduring hell on his side.

Using his weight on the bed as leverage, he brings him into a choke hold on his lap. Chris’s eyes bug out as he pulls him down.

To think, Jim had loved this man as a father. Had believed that Chris loved him like a son. Just for that, he’d use Chris’s body to wipe up the floor of his surgical room at the hospital and then use him for target practice with his knives for the rest of his sorry life.

“Looks like you’re getting old, old man,” he snarls.

“Mc—” Chris tries to say.

He's not in the mood to give him the luxury of speaking. Not yet. Leonard pushes down on the the scalpel already lodged in a mass of bone and muscle. Chris’s curdling scream hurts his ears.

Leonard mercilessly twists the instrument, ignoring the fresh splatter of blood on his own face. As it twists, he hears the slushing sound of muscle and bone. It's music to his ears, despite the heinous scream escaping his victim.

“A pity you scream like a girl,” he sneers.

Chris tries to stop himself but it’s no use. He howls, shaking and staring at his arm, the stream of blood pouring out. His eyes are wide with agony. He’s in shock and would continue down that route if Leonard didn’t ease up.

Wanting only to torture him more, Leonard loosens the hold he has around his neck, allowing the agent a few seconds to breathe.

“You're...w-wasting…time with m-me,” Chris wheezes.

“Haven't you heard? My girlfriend and I broke up and you killed the man I love. I have all fucking day,” he says evenly. “We’ll talk when you’re done screaming like an infant.”

Chris whimpers, his body a quivering mess. Leonard waits until he’s done, throwing a curious glance at Geoff. He doesn’t know how he did it, but Wilson was unconscious on the floor. Hands tied behind his back, too.

Geoff brushes his knees before straightening. He catches Leonard’s narrowed eyes and shrugs. “I took karate.”

Leonard doesn’t blink. Geoff hasn’t taken a single defense lesson in his life. He certainly doesn’t have eyes the color of the sky. He also knows medicine better, how to speak to a patient, and that Leonard isn't a fool.

This isn't the Geoffrey M’Benga that he knew.

He should’ve figured it out earlier, but...damn. It had been a hard day.

This Geoff had helped Joanna escape, but Leonard wasn’t sure he could trust him. Where was the other Geoffrey? How had they even managed to switch several times, under Shadow’s nose? Under Chris’s?

The confident look in Not-Geoff’s expression shifts. He appears scared now, but seconds earlier he’d handled himself, at the very least, like someone who knew how to take care of himself in a fight.

Until he hears from this man what happened, he can't trust him. He can't trust anyone—but himself. And even that he isn't certain of. Yet, he can't take the chance that no one else would come into his room before he was done.

“Grab one of the scalpels and watch the door,” Leonard barks. “With any luck, no one heard him yell.”

Not-Geoff blinks. “But...your legs. Don’t you want...the restraints off?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask why he’s playing dumb now of all times, but he swallows the question. No need to tip Chris of the contradictions, too.

“Get them out of the restraints and guard the damn door then,” he growls.

Geoff’s eyes widen and he quickly nods. “Right.”

While Geoff loosens the restraints, Leonard turns his attention back to the struggling agent he was holding. Chris gasps, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Why did you tamper with #381?” he demands.

Chris’s eyes briefly close. He opens them narrowly, hatred spilling from their depths. “Too smart for his...own...good.”

“Why?” he hisses

Chris laughs weakly. “Like I’d...t-tell...you.”

Leonard imagines Jim’s brilliant smile and stares coldly down at his killer. It didn't matter whether or not Chris had actually pulled the trigger. He’d murdered Jim, just the same. “I could strangle you now, old man.”

The light in Chris’s eyes begins to dim.

Leonard leans over him. “But I won't,” he says in a crisp voice.

“She w-won’t...” Chris chokes. “Make i-it, McCoy.”

“You don’t know her,” he says simply.

“You...won’t m-make it, e-either,” Chris wheezes out.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he hisses in his ear.

Chris manages to snarl at him. “Then...y-you’re a sorry sight to-b-behold.”

“My guess is that you naively thought I was out of commission already, laid up in bed. Joanna, too. Haven’t you figured out by now I don't work that way?”

Chris’s eyes burn into his. “You w-wasted f-five years of your l-life, McCoy,” he rasps.

“I don’t quite see it that way,” he says harshly. Nothing he had done was without purpose, even now. If anything, he knew now that in some ways, it had made him stronger. He’d fooled Chris, caught him off guard, hadn’t he?

“She’s g-gone.”

Leonard clenches his jaw. Jocelyn had disappeared but he doubted all their hard work over the years had been destroyed. They'd be able to take out a few of their contacts, as long as Chris hadn't tipped her of that, too.

But he was right. She was gone. Even if he could get out of this place, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find Jocelyn again.

Not without a team. And not without Jim. Leonard had kept Jim balanced, and Jim had done no less for him. Jim had prevented him from going insane. Something he was sure would happen the second he laid eyes on that woman again.

She has destroyed parts of him that he wasn’t sure he’d ever get back. When Jim had been killed, he’d lost even more. Much more.

He certainly didn’t want to bring Joanna back into the mess. In a few short months, she’d officially turn eighteen. It was time for her to start her own life, separate from this.

His eyes harden. “Not my cause, anymore, old man.”

Chris looks at him warily. “D-don’t b-believe you. Y-you have had r-revenge on...your mind...forever, Mc-c-Coy.”

“Who says I’m done with revenge? What I’m interested in is right here,” he drawls in a cool voice. “Making sure you pay for taking him from me.”

Chris starts to chuckle but Leonard squeezes the man’s neck. Cutting the dry laugh short. The older man’s breath came out in raw, choked breaths.

“You...won’t...get...out...of here...ali…”

Chris grows limp.

So does Leonard.

His arms loosen around the body. It flops off the bed, Chris’s head making a loud, cracking sound as it hit the floor.

“Ouch,” Geoff says, wincing.

Leonard exhales a rush of air as he relaxes and stares up at the ceiling. He’d knocked Chris out, but he would be awakening again sooner or later if the blood loss didn't get him first. That meant he had to get off this bed as soon as possible. He wanted to hand Pike over to the real authorities alive.

Leonard grimaces. The heavy, cumbersome cast surrounding his leg making it impossible for him to even think about climbing off the bed.

He needs a saw. He needs a reason to try to survive.

“Geoff,” he says hoarsely.

“Yeah,” the surgeon says from his right.

Leonard catches his breath and stares right into those baby blues. “I don’t know why you’re helping us, but you’re in more danger than I am. I have to get you out of here. But, first,” he stops and pulls himself up by the railing of the bed. “I need you to find a saw.”

When Geoff glances down at his encased leg, Leonard surmises even being Not-Geoff the man was quick on his feet and with his mind. It seemed like...maybe he knew more than just karate.

“Don’t think that’s going to happen,” Geoff says slowly.

The surgeon bites his lip and drops his hands at his sides.

“What do you mean?” Leonard frowns, watching him carefully.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says and comes closer to the bed.

Leonard prides himself in reading people pretty well and sees the glint in Geoff’s eyes immediately.

But he’s too damn slow.

A hypodermic needle sinks into his neck before he could stop him.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

He wraps his hand around Not-Geoff’s wrist to pull his hand off him but the man is unpredictably strong. Geoff retracts the needle and moves away, eyeing him warily.

Leonard smacks a hand over the offended spot. “Dammit, what did you do?” his voice rings out sharply.

“I'm very sorry,” Geoff says. “But it was necessary.”

Leonard shoots him a dark look. “What is…” He stops when a wave of euphoria swept immediately over his entire body, his muscles involuntarily spasming. “What did you give me?”

He looks at Geoff in pure confusion. His heart is racing like he’d run a marathon on steroids. His mind not far behind. He’s never felt anything like it.

“I can't stay. I can't...I have to move,” he says thickly.

He can’t stay focused on Geoff and his gaze flits from one corner of the room to the next. The sweat pours off his forehead, his heart pounding in quick succession in his chest. Like his heart was beating right out of his ribcage. He rubs his chest, fear rising.

“Steroid? Adrenalin?” He swallows harshly.

The urge to plow over Geoff and head out the door rises and he attempts to rise from the bed.

Geoff grabs his arms and forcefully pushes him back down on the bed. “Hold still, McCoy,” he commands.

Leonard’s eyes widen at the roughness of the order. Geoff still doesn’t answer his questions but maybe he doesn’t need an answer. Whatever he'd given him, it was worse than adrenalin. It worked differently. He could feel everything ten times more, hear everything on a level he’d never experienced before.

“What did…?” Leonard starts to ask but halts abruptly, needing to pant through several quick breaths.

Geoff lets go of one arm and silently shines a light in his eyes.

Strangely enough, it doesn't bother Leonard. But Geoff’s blue eyes do.

He draws back in pain, the hollow place in his heart that Jim had taken now aching.

Geoff sends him a worried look. “Hold still,” he says. “Give me a second. I need to make sure you’re okay. That's what he told me to do.”

“Let me guess,” Leonard says hoarsely. “My pupils are blown.”

Geoff nods, and Leonard could not remain still. He scoots himself sideways to the edge of the bed.

“I need to get off his bed,” he says, shaking his head, attempting to shake the rapid thoughts away. “I need…”

He didn’t know what he needed. Just that he was damn twitchy.

“Hold your horses, McCoy,” Geoff says firmly, pushing against his chest again. “Lie down.”

“The hell I will. Joanna—”

“Joanna will be out of this building before we are if all goes according to plan. Be still, Leo,” Geoff says through clenched teeth. “I’m going to get the cast off.”

Only it wasn’t Geoff’s voice.

Leonard blinks. That voice. It couldn't be…

It’s the drug. It had to be.

He reaches out to touch Geoff’s face but the man spins on his heel and grabs the top of Leonard’s cast.

And starts tearing it in two.

“So, you work out?” Leonard deadpans.

Geoff snorts. “Fake cast,” he mumbles, not looking up. “But, um...yeah. I workout a lot.”

Leonard watches in morbid fascination until pain shoots from his knee to his calf.

He collapses onto his back. “Agh,” he groans.

He twists the sheets in his hands. He couldn't tell which was worse—the pain or the sensation of movement from the cast being torn apart.

“I'm sorry, Leo. That drug is giving you the adrenalin that you'll need to get out of here, but it does heighten your sensitivity to pain,” Geoff says, wincing. “A bad trade-off, I know.” He bites his lip and continues. “Almost see them.”

See _them_?

Leonard squeezes his eyes shut. “What? What are...you doing?”

The movement surrounding his leg stops.

“Take a look for yourself,” Geoff says with a hint of pride.

Leonard exhales a quick breath and lifts his head to stare down at himself.

The cast is open and two guns are nestled beside his leg.

“You...hid guns in my cast? During surgery?” Leonard doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of all the wild crazy ideas...It was something that Jim would have done. “What the ever lovin’—”

Geoff grins. “I might not know how to heal your leg, but I do know how to improvise.”

Leonard's breath hitches. He stares at Geoff, now truly wanting to cry.

Because though that was Jim’s voice he heard, he was not Jim. He was Geoff. The Not-Geoff.

“I hit my head harder than I thought,” he whispers.

Geoff scans him from head to toe. “What? What else is wrong? Where are you hurting?” he asks anxiously. “He told me that even though your injuries are serious, we’d be able to get you out of here.”

He can’t speak. If Chris had concocted another plan to undo him, this was it. A failsafe, maybe. To ensure Leonard's demise if his own plans went south.

It was an evil plan. Confusing him with Jim’s voice. His fucking eyes. It’s the single cruelest thing anyone could ever do to him.

Jim was gone, never coming back.

Not-Geoff stares worriedly at him. “Leo?”

“God, I just can’t take anymore,” he whispers. “I... _can’t_.”

Maybe Pike had won, after all.

Something wet slips down his cheek.

“Oh, no,” Geoff comes closer. “No, Leo.”

“Geoff, don't do this to me,” he breathes brokenly.

Geoff caresses Leonard’s cheek with the back of his hand, wiping away the tear. “Please, don't cry. I'll make it better, Leo. I’ll make most of it better, anyway. I promise.”

Leonard flinches away from his touch. “That's impossible,” he says, trying to compose himself. He clears his throat and looks down at Chris to avoid Not-Geoff’s eyes. “We have to go. We have to make sure Joanna gets out of here, and you…”

“I have inside help,” Geoff says. “She’ll be fine.”

Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose. So Not-Geoff _is_ an agent? “I don’t know who you are but—”

“Yeah, you do,” Geoff says quietly.

“The hell I do,” he barks, slipping off the bed and standing in front of him. He pulls himself up to his full height and ignoring his leg injury, looks coolly at him. “You’re not the Geoffrey M’Benga with whom I work most every day. You’re an imposter who moves...wh-who….who s-sounds…”

Leonard groans and puts his head in his hands.

“I'm going insane,” he whispers with a shaking breath. “Geoff, I- I am.”

“You're emotionally compromised, Special Agent McCoy—”

The name causes Leonard to glance up in distress.

“—but not insane. Who sounds like what, Leo?” Geoff asks gently, hand on his shoulder.

“L-like…” Leonard says, trembling under his touch. “I c-can’t...can’t s-s-say.”

“It’s okay, Leo,” Geoff says quietly. “You don’t have to say his name. I know it hurts. But, this might help.”

Geoff pinches a piece of skin between his fingers—and pulls. Leonard didn't know what he expected to happen but what happened next wasn't it.

Geoffrey peels his own skin off like he's peeling the thin membrane of a fruit, the skin stretching then wrinkling his features.

Awed, Leonard takes a step back. He'd heard about the improvements being made in these particular masks, but as far as he knew they hadn't yet reached this level of sophistication. He'd never seen one up close before.

In seconds, Geoff completely rips off his face. Leaving another. Leonard looks into the eyes of the man who could both complete him and wreck him at the very same time.

The man twists his mouth in a crooked but sincere smile. “Hey, Bones.”

Son of a bitch.

Tears spring from the corners of Leonard’s eyes. “Jim?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I couldn't let Jim stay dead. Not for a million years. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading - I’d absolutely LOVE to hear from you! Your comments are snippets of inspiration for me. :)
> 
> More soon at some point today...


	11. No More Time for Crying Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update jump starts a series of chapters in Jim’s POV. Although these chapters are vital to the plot, they provide the necessary depth to Jim’s character arc. And believe me, his character arc needs a LOT of attention if he and Leonard plan to work things out at all.
> 
> This chapter begins sixty-one hours before we left off in the last chapter. About ten hours after Jim “dies” on the ferry.
> 
> My two betas are wonderful and kind to me - they’ve not only shared their opinions and edits, but have given me a lot of encouragement for this story behind the scenes. I am incredibly grateful for that. Thank you!
> 
> Enjoy. :D

_(approximately 61-hours ago, part one)_

 

Jim awakens to the low hum of medical equipment and the scent of antiseptic in the air. He feels happy to be alive because he thinks— _he senses_ —that he should be dead. But, he also feels like he’d been hit by a semi, so maybe he’s nearly dead.

No, that wasn’t right.

He imagines a scene in a movie. An old man, his old wife, and a man on a table in a humble dwelling in the woods.

The younger man was mostly dead.

Mostly dead. That sounds like something that would annoy the heck out of Bones. He can just imagine the doctor rolling his eyes. Hear his annoyed drawl as offers up some metaphor. Jim tries to think of the name of the movie the phrase was from but his mental haze isn’t clearing. He gives up. When he does, he registers the murmurs in the room.

“He’s finally awake,” a female voice says softly. “Could you please wait outside? I’ll check his vitals and take care of any other needs he might have.”

There’s a pause, as if someone fills the silence with a nod.

“I’ll let you back in as soon as I can. I promise,” she says.

He stops thinking about nearly dead and mostly dead and contemplates his situation, like he should be doing. The problem was, things weren’t exactly clear. He remembers feeling so ill he couldn’t stand. Grabbing the rail. The sensation of falling. He remembers the look of fear on Bones’s face, his hand brushing his hair, pain contorting his body...and then nothing.

That’s all he remembers. But it's enough. He squeezes his eyes shut. He preferred, at least for now, to block out the rest.

He nervously licks his lips. They’re dry and cracked, painful when his tongue swipes over them. When he hears the woman beside him, he looks up again to find her.

“Leo?” he whispers hesitantly, watching the shadow on the ceiling above him.

He wishes he hadn’t spoken. His throat’s raw.

“He’s not here, Jim,” she says from his left.

It wasn’t the answer he wants. He coughs, wincing. “Am I dead?”

It’s a joke, and she chuckles.

“You’re a Kirk,” the familiar female voice intones.

He blinks slowly and a vision appears, a woman he knows. An agent that he respects—but still doesn’t know if he can trust. Although, giving Spock the tip about #381 and then saving Jim certainly gave her a few points.

“So, since you’re a Kirk, you’ll live,” she finishes dryly.

He licks his lips, the sheet draped over his body uncomfortable. It itches and he scratches at his neck, only the sensation in his hands is odd. He can hardly feel his fingers.

“I'm sorry, Jim, but that’s all I had to cover you with,” she says apologetically.

He scratches more. “Wh-where am I?”

He swallows while he waits for her reply, wishing for water.

“Somewhere safe,” she answers.

He scratches again. Eyeing him carefully, she pulls the sheet so it’s halfway down his chest.

“You’re not going to tell me, huh?” he says hoarsely.

“No, I’m not,” she quips, this time without apology.

“You and your secrets,” Jim mutters and closes his eyes, the events of the day coming back to him. “Spock found you.”

“Luckily, I found _him_ ,” she says, “Before he went completely berserk watching my team take you away. He’s right outside as we speak. He wants to talk to you but we need a few moments.”

She grows quiet and Jim draws a blank. He should ask her questions but he’s confused.

He finally thinks of a question. The most important one, the reason he’d taken the damn drug in the first place, to get so sick on the ferry it would provide them with a cover. “Where’s Leo?”

For reasons he can’t pinpoint, butterflies flutter in his stomach.

“That’s what I need to talk with you about,” she says. “First, I should tell you it’s been more than ten hours since you died. I should also tell you that this situation is far more complicated than you think, Jim.”

He glares at her. “You told Spock after I’d taken #381 that Chris was going to try kill me, when it was too late to change a damn thing about the extraction. But, between you and Spock, I survived. How much more complicated could this get?”

She purses her lips. “Complicated, and you need more rest.”

“I feel fine, other than I’m a little sore,” he says coolly. “May I have my clothes and get out of bed, _Doctor_?”

She crosses her arms. “There’s nothing keeping you in bed, except for the effects of the drug which will be wearing off soon.”

He finds the button to recline his bed and presses it with a numb-feeling fingertip.

“But I don't advise it quite yet,” she says gently.

He grunts as the bed moves him to a comfortable sitting position. “Bones is with her, isn't he?”

“Stay in bed for another hour and I'll answer that—if you promise not to interrupt before I'm done.”

“You strike a hard bargain, Shadow,” he mutters.

“You can take it,” she says dryly. “You truly did die, you know.”

“How’d you bring me back?”

“The entire medical team that boarded that ferry was made up of my agents. They put on quite the show, though they didn’t have to. The overdose your killer planned for you to take succeeded in the end.” She pauses. “You’re very lucky, Jim. If they hadn’t gotten to the ferry when they had, you wouldn’t be in this bed. You'd be in a coffin.”

“You’re not going to tell me how you brought me back, are you?”

“No, I'm not,” she agrees softly. “All you need to know is that you’re breathing and talking, and that’s what counts.”

“So he really did it,” he says. “Like you said. He tampered with #381.”

“Yes. But due to the unforeseen complications, your death, we couldn’t follow through with the extraction,” she says.

“After all this fucking time,” he complains, wincing. “Bones finally agrees and we have this nightmare to deal with.”

She hesitates.

Jim suddenly pales. “Fuck. Bones thinks I'm dead, doesn't he? That's what you need to talk to me about? Is he still there with her?”

She doesn't answer.

“I’m dead to him,” Jim says, sick in his stomach when he thinks of something worse. “You're going to make me delay telling him, aren't you?”

She stares sadly at him. “I'll get you some water, Jim.”

Jim watches her pour water from a pitcher and into a plastic cup. His world as he knew it has ended—and he doesn’t even know why.

“You have to tell him,” he pleads, still watching her. She grabs a straw and places it in the cup, turning to him. “Go to the hospital and find him. Please. Send Spock if you can’t go. You can’t let him think that I'm really dead. It would destroy him. N-not immediately. But over time. As short as _days_.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t do that.” She guides the straw in his mouth. “Here, drink. You need liquids.”

He swallows several sips. “We have to...I have to go to him.”

“You’re doing no such thing,” she interrupts. “You'd endanger his life, Jim. Let alone yours for a second time.”

He scratches at his chest, the numb sensation in his fingers worse now that he’s been talking and more aware of his surroundings. He lifts his hands up to inspect them more closely.

His fingertips were red, as if they were infected, the color creeping into his nail beds. He rubs two fingers together in his right hand, his middle finger with the thumb. He can’t feel either fingertip. He tries his fourth finger, then his pinkie. And feels nothing.

“What happened to my hands?” he asks with a tremulous breath.

He tests the pads of the fingers of his other hand, discovering others that were numb, too, but that even the palm of his hand was partially numb..

“#381 happened, Jim,” she says with a sigh. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose your fingers. You died before that could happen, stopping the natural course of the drug. Ironically, the overdose that caused your death, saved your hands. I ran extensive tests with help from Mister Spock while you were out. For now, you’ve lost sensation in six digits, mostly just in the extremities.

His career as he knows it is over. This is a handicap. He wouldn't be able to button his shirt, let alone work a gun. He’d be lucky to land a desk job. A job where all he has to do is answer fucking phones.

He stares at his hands, feeling helpless.

She places a hand on his knee and squeezes it. “Jim, some of it will pass.”

“Some of it?” he manages, unsure he can believe her.

“You should regain a little feeling back once the drug finally leaves your system, which will take a few days” she says. “I can recommend a few of our surgeons who can reverse some of the damage that was done with a procedure we’ve been perfecting. Including your own Bones. You'll still be an agent, Jim.”

“L-Leo…h-he won’t like this,” Jim manages with a harsh swallow. “Not...not at all.”

He'd be furious. He'd blame himself, which was worse. He wouldn't let him out of the house ever again.

But Leonard would like the reason Jim chose to take #381 in the first place even less.

Jim flexes his fingers, the oddity of his situation unsettling to him. He decides he doesn’t want to look at his hands anymore and averts his gaze, instead.

“I can imagine that he’ll be furious and quite protective of you, Jim,” she agreed gently. “As it stands now, you’ll be able use your hands like you’re used to using them most of the time,” she explained.

He throws her a look. “I can’t feel three fingertips and one finger in my right hand. I won’t be able to told a damn pencil correctly.”

“Fine motor skills may prove more difficult for some time before you've recovered, but you knew the risks, Jim,” she says tightly. “Didn’t you?”

He had. He knew about the agent who'd lost his leg. Another, her hearing. He, at least, had everything intact. Just lost a little feeling. “Doesn’t make this any better.”

“You’ll be able to write left-handed, since that is the hand with less damage. As I recall, you wrote left-handed that when you were sent to that special school when you were thirteen.”

Jim’s cheeks burn. No one else was supposed to know about his time there besides Leonard and the man he used to think of like a father. But, then again, this was one of the most intelligent agents in the FBI.

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Please, don’t mention the...the school,” he pleads.

She sits quietly. “I apologize. We do have other things to discuss. Chris, for one.”

He can’t even describe what he feels at the mention of Pike’s name. It was as if someone had numbed the rest of his skin surface before penetrating it with a large needle that would, otherwise, be painful.

“Until we can bring him in,” she continues, “you’ll have to stay dead.”

“You have a plan for that?” He pauses for her answer, but her eyes are raw with honesty. “You plan on killing him, don’t you?

“No,” she says too quickly. “However, I am working on a plan to get you right in the thick of things.”

His brows shoot up.

“There isn't anyone else with your skill and knowledge of Leonard and Chris, Jim,” she explains. “You're the only one we've got.”

“Where’s Spock?” he asks. “Shouldn’t he be hearing this, too?”

“He already knows. But, I’ll let him in. I know he might keep you level-headed as we talk.”

“Gee, that’s comforting,” he mutters.

Spock comes in looking the most distressed that Jim had ever seen him. Hair uncombed, eyes red and weary, his shoulders bowing under the weight of Pike and Jim and....who knew what else. Jim takes a second look at his attire, a tunic and boots, which had helped provide the necessary cover at the ferry.

“Have you even slept?” he blurts.

“I have slept a little, Captain,” Spock says.

Jim inhales a sharp breath. “I’m no captain.”

Especially that sort of captain.

That’s Pike’s title. _Was_.

“It appears since ours is a traitor and you are alive, the title naturally belongs to you.” Spock pauses. “Captain.”

Jim shakes his head. “Spock…”

“We require a trustworthy leader,” he states. “And since the only other man who could hold this position is otherwise occupied, the job is yours, Jim.”

“Only other man...occupied?” Jim repeats, frowning.

“We’ll get to that soon,” Shadow says. “First, I need to know—”

Jim’s had enough. “ _I_ need to know how we’re going to get Leonard and Joanna out of this mess. The mission is too compromised for them to stay there. What if Jocelyn begins to suspect something?”

Shadow exchanges a glance with Spock.

“What?” Jim demands.

She inclines her head. “We’re going to get them out of this...by telling you the truth.”

Jim tries to settle back into his pillow, but their faces reveal much more than they’re saying. He can see they are anxious. Upset. He simply can’t believe that things could be worse than they already were.

“Have you ever wondered why Leonard was so stubborn for so long, Jim?” she asks softly. “Why he just wouldn't agree to get himself out of harm’s way? His daughter?”

“I have,” Jim confesses. “Every day.”

“I imagine it didn’t make sense to you.”

Jim glanced at Spock, whose eyes immediately soften. “No,” he admits.

“Have you ever wondered if Leonard was lying to you all this time? That he seemed to smart for a civilian to know so much about your job? About helping the FBI?”

“What? No!” he shouts, though he’d had doubts before, doubts he’d discussed with Chris. He’d always assured him that Leonard was who he’d said he was. Always. “No. Never...I...he wouldn’t lie to me.”

She cocks her head. “But you deceived him.”

“That was different,” he protests.

“Is it?”

He blinks. “How would I know?”

“He has been lying to you, Jim,” she says, pulling up a chair beside him. “For a very long time. Chris’s orders.”

“Chris’s orders? What are you getting at?” he asks crisply. “How could Chris order Leonard to do any…”

His voice trails off as they both seem to tense at the same time. Logic and reasoning stir up answers Jim would rather not even consider.

Considering them would mean his world had truly fallen to pieces.

He remembered what Leonard had told him after Jim had confessed who he was. That Jim had fallen in love. That Leonard had fallen in love. And that was all there was to it.

He realizes now that there could have been great thought behind that answer—if Leonard was indeed hiding the same thing from Jim. And maybe that's why it had made sense to Jim. Because it seemed to be the simple answer he was looking for in his complicated life.

But could Jim believe something so simple again? If he’d been lying to him for all this time?

“No,” he says, refusing to believe any of them. “No. Leonard isn’t an agent.”

“No?” she says softly. “You know already that Chris tried to kill you, that he’s lied to you. He could have been lying to about Leonard all this time. Not only that, but Leonard maintained a relationship with Jocelyn for years without too many visible signs that it affects him. Only someone with training could possibly endure that sort of suffering.”

He looks sharply at her. “You may be Shadow, but you don’t know anything about that, though you might think you do. It _does_ affect him. You have no idea what is going on inside of his head after these years of abuse. How much it has messed with him. _I_ do.”

She nods. “Fair enough. He manages to remain with her, nonetheless. He successfully meets with you, without garnering any suspicion from her at all? He refuses to go into Witness Protection how many times?”

“Nine,” Jim snaps.

“Exactly.” She shrugs like they're talking about the weather. “And Chris does nothing when he refuses? Even though Jocelyn Darnell is one of the most dangerous women he could ever have chosen to have a relationship with?”

Jim clenches his hands into fists and stares down at them. His hands are nearly into fists but it feels awkward. He almost can’t stand to look at his own damn hands.

“Is he really a surgeon?” he asks, tone brusque.

He unclenches his hands, relaxing them on his lap. Like with his hands, he will have to face the truth, no matter how much it hurt. If what Shadow said was true, then he’d eventually—mostly—recover. If what Shadow said was true about Leo, then there’s a lot more Jim needs to know and not a lot of time to understand it all if they were to extract Leonard and Joanna.

Because Jim has been in the business long enough to know that the mission has been compromised in more ways than one. Leonard and Joanna are in danger.

“Yes,” she says.

“You said Chris ordered him…” He can hardly bring himself to say it. “To lie to me?”

Maybe it would be shocking to all of them to know that he still couldn’t find it in himself to actually hate Pike. Maybe he’s still fucking numb that his father figure had tried to murder him.

She turns to Spock. “Bring up the file,” she says.

“Yes, sir,” Spock says and opens the laptop he has brought with him. Soon, his fingers are flying over the keypad.

She flips off the lights in Jim’s room and a large image of Leonard’s face appears on the far blank wall.

He’s younger in this photo. Much younger, less lines on his face, less cynicism, but just as handsome. But there’s something in his eyes that nearly terrifies Jim. A hardness that he’d seen the first day he’d met Leo face-to-face. A hardness that seemed to soften whenever they were together.

“This was taken...when?” Jim scans the information written beside his lover’s face.

“When he first came to the organization.”

“So, over a decade ago,” he surmises.

“Fifteen years ago, yes.”

“Fifteen years, two-hundred twenty point five days ago,” Spock says without looking up from the computer.

Jim shoots Shadow a look. “Am I the last to know?”

Her brows lift. “If you mean, was your team aware that McCoy was an agent? Then, yes. Most of them. He worked with Sulu and Scotty, a few others, even aiding in their training. But in the past five years, other than Chris and you, Jim, Spock has been the only one who’d had any actual contact with him—before Spock went on his own hiatus.” She pauses. “This has been a clandestine operation, but Chris took it further, leaving you out of the equation, in a way.”

He feels betrayed and runs his hands over his face.

“We don’t have much time so you're going to have to listen carefully and push your emotions aside, Kirk,” she says evenly. “After we do what we must, which is rescue McCoy and his daughter, you can hash this out with your best friend and also your lover.”

He wants to hit something but merely nods and drops his hands to his lap. The lives of two people he cared so much for hung in the balance. This was his job and if he could do anything well, it was his damn job.

“Why did Chris order him to lie?”

She looks steadily at him. “Because Chris wanted you out of the picture even then.”

He chokes on a breath. “He hired McCoy to kill me?”

She actually laughs. “No, not kill you. Make you fall in love with him. So you'd want to leave the FBI behind.”

He wasn’t sure which scenario would be worse—Leonard pretending to be in love with him or being hired to kill him. He almost preferred the latter.

She reads him well. “Don’t you dare go there, Kirk,” she demands harshly. “Leonard loves you. It doesn’t matter how you two began. It matters that he fell in love with you a long time ago. Truly fell in love with you. Trust me, that man has had vengeance on his heart for over a decade, Jim. You were the first one to take his mind off of it. The _only_ one.”

“Then why did he keep lying to me, even after he agreed to the extraction?” he asks quietly. “Was he ever going to tell me?”

She lifts her chin. “I don't know if he planned on ever telling you. But, he has his reasons for keeping this secret and I’d prefer it if he told you himself.”

He could strike a hard bargain, too. “I’m not helping you unless I know why he’s been lying to me all this time. There has to be a reason, a better reason than…” He drew a breath. “Pike.”

Spock finally looks up from the computer. He peers at Shadow. “I, too, will not agree unless we are given more intel.”

Jim gave him a small smile, slightly mollified that Spock didn’t know the reason behind Leonard’s secrecy, either.

“He will never forgive me,” she whispered, averting her face.

“That is what you’re worried about now?” Jim deadpans. “His forgiveness? Not his life?”

She gives a dry laugh. “You have no idea how hard I worked to gain his trust, what I've had to do to keep it. Then, he made a deal with me to keep my trust.”

“He made a deal with you?” Jim repeats.

Spock frowns. Jim does, too. He simply doesn't like the sound of that.

Her lips curls in a snarl. “Yes, Jim, a deal. And if I tell you his secret? I am risking everything, do you realize that? This would be the ultimate betrayal,” she states angrily.

“Seems to me that it's too late to be worried about betrayals,” Jim says. “Maybe we should stop withholding valuable information from each other. Secrecy obviously isn't working here.”

Surprisingly, she looks taken aback. “Back in the early days, Chris could tell even then what a great leader you would be. And look at you,” she says. “Now that you've actually been given a better opportunity to prove yourself, you can see it.”

“He wanted to keep Leonard and I apart with these lies, didn't he?” Jim asks abruptly. “Keep us apart even though we would be together. Because we would be stronger that way and he didn't like it. He counted on us to be too hurt to stay together. To separate once the truth came out, after we revealed our respective lies.”

She watches him carefully. “Yes, but I have reason to believe his game contains a greater objective, Jim. With you dead, it's probable that Chris wants to pin your death on someone else. Someone very vulnerable. Someone who isn't out of the picture just yet.”

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock says, voice tight.

Dread sinks to the bottom of Jim’s stomach. “Fuck,” he says with a cry. “Leonard? He wants to frame Leo?”

She nods. “I believe it’s very likely, and if so, we—Spock, myself, and the others on the team—must act accordingly. Surprised and willing to follow protocol, waiting until the time is right for us to strike.”

If Jim's death hadn't destroyed him, that accusation would.

“Simply put, the Captain and Doctor McCoy are in his way. Expendable,” Spock says quietly.

Jim shivers. Never in a million years would he'd ever thought this of his mentor. His father figure. His recruiter. The man he’d looked up to for years. But, he can’t allow himself to think of those feelings. He fears he’ll lose control.

“‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,’” Spock quotes. “Grossly misinterpreted, but Pike’s inspiration, nonetheless.”

Shadow pales. Shifts in her chair. Curls her fingers into the fabric of her slacks. Guilt and sorrow fill her features before she catches herself and dons the cool, reserved mask she usually wore.

“I apologize, Number One,” Spock says softly. “I did not mean to distress you with this discussion concerning your husband.”

“It's fine, Mister Spock,” she says, clearing her throat. “I've had a long time to get used to the idea that my husband is not who he says he is.”

“We are gratified that you are willing to help us.”

“If only I'd learned sooner, Jim could have been spared completely,” she says, laughing humorlessly. “Leonard, also.”

“Do not blame yourself,” Spock says. “It is not your doing.”

“It’s Chris’s,” she says with another lift to her chin. “He can't spare your ingenuity and logic, Mister Spock, not if he wants to keep the team together as long as possible. Leonard is too smart and too critical and too emotive and too distrusting, all rolled into one. Chris also honed in on Leonard’s desire for vengeance early on. As far as you, Jim, he’s simply jealous of you and your charisma, your sheer genius and leadership traits. He was the same way with your father. Despite that, he loved you, before his own envy, arrogance, and selfishness ruined him. In his mind, if he hurts you, he is still hurting your father.”

Jim can't think about her last statement without feeling like his heart is being ripped out. The others without wanting to vomit. He ignores them all. He focuses on the person who meant the most to him.

“Why did Leo continue to lie to me?” he asks the question burning on his tongue.

“He has a good reason, Jim.”

“I’d like to determine that for myself.”

She sighs. “Joanna. It's because of Joanna,”

“His daughter,” Jim repeats on auto-pilot.

He can understand Leo’s loyalty to his flesh and blood. To an extent.

Her eyes flicker with emotion. “I'm sure Leonard told you about the accident he was in when he was in med school.”

Jim nods. “Yes. His sister perish…”

He doesn't finish. She'd led him directly to the answer to his own damn question.

“Joanna,” he whispers, his heart hollowing. “She’s Donna. Leo’s little sister.”

He looks up and sees affirmation in Shadow’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Clandestine operation or not, Leo hadn’t trusted him.

With anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was a reference to The Princess Bride! :D Sorry not sorry! Also, you're not imagining a few similarities to Star Trek Into Darkness, though they're not rampant references. I hope you noticed the nod to the "triumvirate." :) 
> 
> More soon...


	12. Devil's Backbone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final update today. Jim's POV, beginning from where the last chapter left off. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)

( _Sixty-one_ _hours_ _ago_ , _part_ _two_ )

 

Jim’s groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. _No_.”

Leonard couldn't have trusted him enough to tell him that his sister was alive?

“She’s his sister, Jim,” Shadow concurs. “And an undercover agent, herself.”

“What?” Jim exclaims. “How?”

“He trained her himself and when he was too deep in cover to do so…” She hesitates.

“You did,” Jim says softly. “You helped train her.”

“Yes. When she was at her ‘boarding school.’”

Jim sinks back in his bed, digesting the new information.

Spock quirks a brow. “Fascinating. However, there is a discrepancy.”

Shadow nods. “Go ahead, Spock.”

“The ages do not align,” Spock states doubtfully.

She hums noncommittally. “That's because in order to maintain their cover, Joanna McCoy is seventeen. And Donna Quinn is twenty-two.”

Jim jerks his head up. “I always thought she was older.” He chuckles bitterly. “But not ‘seventeen but twenty-fucking-two’ older. Maybe eighteen. Nineteen. She would've just turned seventeen when I met her.”

Another image appeared on the wall. A petite, slight of frame young girl with glasses and freckles and disarming smile that deceived the eye into thinking she was only a tween.

“She blossomed into a young woman much later in her teens,” she explains, adding a more recent photograph of ‘Joanna.’ “It worked to their advantage. Not even Chris knows the truth, only that she is the legal age to be an undercover agent.”

Spock shook his head ever so slightly. “She is seventeen. This cover is real to them.”

“‘This isn’t real. My life with her,’” Jim mumbles. “It isn’t real.’”

Spock turns his head to look at him.

Shadow taps her chin with two fingers. “What was that, Jim?”

“Something Leonard told me once,” he explains, his heart breaking.

“I see,” she says with a frown.

Jim clenches his jaw. “He was trying to justify...staying with her, even though she abused him. I told him it _was_ real, because of the evidence on his body and in his mind. I didn’t want him to brush the abuse under the rug, but I guess...I didn’t completely understand what he was really saying until now.”

“Leonard was telling you in his own way that he wanted to tell you the truth,” Spock says slowly. “But could not.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, voice thick with emotion. “I guess he was.”

“We must be cautious and aware of their feelings in the matter,” Spock says. “It will do no good to be angry with him, Jim.”

“I'm not angry,” he denies. “Disappointed, maybe. Sad we couldn't be honest with each other. Sad that...that we’ve lost all this time to...to deception.”

“If you'd been in his shoes, if you had a sister who was determined to seek vengeance with or without you, what would you have done?” she asks him.

He almost doesn't answer. “The same. Or pretty close to it.”

“I see. Then you know that Spock's right,” she concurs after a nod of acknowledgement. “Leonard and Donna will need counseling as they transition out of this life they've built. And our understanding. No matter what we feel.”

Jim looks at his hands. Spock was correct. Shadow was, too. Leo loved Donna, whether or not she was really his daughter, Joanna. But, Jim silently decided, Leo would be more likely to think of Donna as Joanna. As his beloved Jo. His sweet but feisty, teenaged daughter. The two had a special bond, all based on their father-daughter relationship. And Leo, the father, was utterly devoted to his daughter.

Jim had no doubt that Leonard had cared so deeply for her all these years because she was more like a daughter to him than a sister, the age difference probably reinforcing their cover. He'd probably protected her by coaching her through her own feelings of revenge, guiding her to work past it towards something more. While Leonard himself shouldered the responsibility, the danger. Maybe even the anger.

It hadn’t taken long after they'd first met for Jim to realize that Joanna had a mind of her own. She was a spitfire. Headstrong. Daring. Knowing that, Leonard had most likely kept her safe by never letting her out of his sight, even if that had been right under Jocelyn’s nose. He’d managed to care for her the only way he knew how. He'd started college young, at aged seventeen, leaving his three-year-old kid sister at home with his parents. He’d been nineteen when his parents died. Thus, Donna had only been a small child at the time of the wreck. A five-year-old.

Jim narrows his eyes on Number One. “He couldn't have possibly taken care of her immediately following the accident. He'd suffered severe injuries which required several surgeries. He had to have had help.”

Someone else possibly hiding Donna until the right time came and she became Leonard's long lost daughter. According to the story Leonard told everyone, even Jim, he’d discovered he’d had a daughter after Joanna’s mother had died, right before he’d been offered the job at the hospital ten years ago. Jim quickly calculated that Donna had officially become Leo’s daughter when she'd turned twelve, seven years after the accident. So, for seven years prior, she’d hid from the entire world. Somehow.

If Shadow had helped train Joanna, it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d been there from the beginning. Maybe even being the one who hid her.

Shadow stands and sighs. “I know there are more questions but we can’t possibly answer them all today. You'll have to ask Leonard, Jim. In due time.”

“So what's your plan?” Jim asks.

“Spock will need to go to the hospital, first.”

“To find Leo?”

“Hopefully, yes, but we can’t compromise him yet or he’ll be in even more danger. Joanna, too. First, we have an extraction. A doctor Geoffrey M’Benga.”

Jim's eyes widen. “Why Geoff?”

“He's a civilian who wants to help.”

“A floater,” Jim surmises.

“Yes, and if Leonard is in danger it's logical to believe he might be, too. They're friends.” She pauses. “Though Leonard doesn't know that Geoff knows he is an agent. Neither does Chris.”

Spock’s brows rise.

“I hold things close to the chest,” she explained tightly.

“Indeed, you do,” Spock muses.

Geoffrey had always been a good friend to Leonard. They had coffee together regularly. Even taken the family over to Geoff’s several times. But...how could he already know about Leo’s double life?

“How does Geoff know about Leo?” Jim fires at her.

“It’s a long story, Jim, and one I can’t reveal,” she states adamantly. “I know you don’t like that, but it’s clearance you don’t have.”

“Can we trust him?”

“You can trust him just like you trust Spock,” she says in a softer tone.

He exchanges a glance with Spock, who nods. “Captain, we have no choice but to trust both her and Doctor M’Benga.”

“Fine,” he says tightly. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but if he’ll help us get Leo and Jo out of this, then I won't argue.”

He'd just be extra cautious.

“Good. If we’re lucky, Leonard will be working,” she says. “Unfortunately, Chris didn’t inform me of his specific plans tonight. I don’t even know where he is, so we’re going in blind. He says they're continuing the mission, but I have my doubts he’s directing the team himself. I think he's planning something for tonight, the mission merely a distraction.”

“He didn’t trust you enough to tell you?”

She shakes her head. “He did trust me...before this. But, I hid your body away from their eyes the second that I could. He didn’t like it. He was angry that I took control of the situation and I think he’s being secretive in retaliation, obviously not following protocol. He’s operating beyond us, now.”

Jim blinks at her. Number One and Pike’s relationship had been so twisted and manipulative all this time? He would have never known. Never.

She sees his shock and shrugs. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“I shall leave immediately.” Spock stands.

“This is my fault,” Jim says quietly.

Spock stops gathering his belongings and stares at him. “Captain?”

“If only I hadn't been so stubborn about #381,” he began tonelessly. “If I’d been more careful and inquisitive of Chris, demanding that Leonard and Joanna leave their life sooner. If I’d done better...more...this wouldn’t have happened.”

If he hadn’t been so fucking blind.

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of those who wish to do more harm than good.”

“I must concur, captain. You are not to blame. Please do not second-guess yourself. It will not aid your cause, but increase your anxiety,” Spock says, eyes filling with concern. “I regret leaving when you are still in need of rest and are obviously in turmoil.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jim swiftly assures him. He really hates how exhausted his friend looks.

Spock hesitates.

Jim waves a hand. “Go. I promise I'm okay. Be careful,” he adds. “Remember, Jocelyn has eyes there, Spock.”

“Indeed, she does.”

After Spock walks out the door, Shadow turns to Jim. He tries not to show his fatigue, but he sinks into his pillow and, involuntarily, his eyes close.

“Damn,” he breathes.

“You must rest, Jim. You still need time for #381 to leave your body,” she says. “Days, but we only have hours.”

He feels a light squeeze on his shoulder.

“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you,” she says softly before leaving.

Surprisingly, he falls asleep quickly, despite the thoughts racing in his mind, the worry he has for Leonard’s well-being.

He isn't allowed to sleep long. Shadow returns before he is ready and wakes him up by calling his name.

“Jim, I'm sorry to do this to you,” she says quietly as he forces his his eyes open, “but the drug levels in your blood have decreased enough that you can get out of bed now, move around before we leave. Also, your disguise is ready.”

“Disguise?” he rasps. He coughs and clears his throat.

She brings a cup to his lips, guides the straw to his mouth, and offers a small smile. “Take some sips, Jim. And, yes, a disguise. It's also time for a visitor.”

As if on cue, Scotty steps in, out of breath and arms full with what seems to be equipment of some type. Shadow pulls away the cup and sets it beside Jim.

“Scotty?” Jim asks, confused.

“Captain,” Scotty says, his usual bright greeting lackluster.

“You’re here, too?” Jim asks him but looks at Shadow.

She clears the shelf beside Jim’s bed. “I needed an extra pair of hands,” she explains.

“Aye,” Scotty mutters, placing his equipment on the shelf. “And I cannae say I liked being attacked from behind, blindfolded, and then gagged, only to be stuffed into the trunk of a car where I endured a rough, bumpy ride for more than thirty minutes—” He turns and smiles sadly at Jim. “—but I am glad that you are alive, Captain.”

Jim stirs with anger that one of his team has been ill-treated. “What did you do?” he asks Shadow.

“I stole him from Chris,” she says frankly. “Had to make it look like a random attack.”

“Why did you involve Mr. Scott?” he asks tightly. He’d rather not bring another good man into this mess, even if his cooperation is welcome.

Scotty’s mouth hangs open for a split second. “Dinnae she tell you what nonsense she’s poisoning our minds with?”

Frustrated, Jim sighs and runs his hands through his hair, pulling on several ragged tufts. He feels like shit, wants a shower, wants to eat, wants a week’s vacation, wants just to hold Leo in his arms, shielding him from it all.

“Haven't quite gotten to that part yet,” he rasps.

Shadow quickly puts the straw in his mouth. Jim sips greedily.

Scotty’s expression grows urgent. “We dinnae have the time for lollygagging.”

“No, we do not,” Jim says stiffly, staring hard at Shadow.

“If Leonard goes anywhere to hide, it would be in Sallough City,” she explains swiftly.

“Why?”

“He has a safehouse there. Leonard told Spock about it a few years ago.” She hesitates. “But, if Chris extracts Leonard, he will take him to a compound that is off the books.”

Jim’s mind races. “Let me get this straight. You want Spock to find Leonard _if_ Leonard escapes Jocelyn on his own? You think he’ll go to Sallough City? You want Leonard to be captured?” He stops, feeling the color drain from his face. “Be fucking _bait_?”

She winces. “I don’t see it quite the same way, but yes. We must have definite proof of Chris feeding Intel. With luck we’ll be able to position ourselves and take down any and all hostiles.”

He can’t reconcile doing that to Bones, not after all he’s been through. “It’s too dangerous. For Leonard,” he says. “He won’t be able to take this extra stress.”

“It’s too dangerous to allow Chris to continue what he’s doing,” she opposes. “I know you can see that, Jim. As far as Leonard’s mental well-being is concerned, he’s been trained to endure far more than the average FBI agent.”

“And if you’re wrong?” he rasps.

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take. Your friends’ lives depend on it.”

“He’s endured enough,” Jim grits. “He could... _break_ if he’s led to believe I’m still dead.”

“It’s possible,” she says evenly, tapping her chin with a perfectly manicured finger. “I am as concerned as you are that Leonard has reached his limit but we can't risk telling him anything because if he does break, Chris will know we are onto him.”

Nausea fills his throat. “I can't do this to him.”

It’s a deplorable idea. He'd hate himself for it. Worse, _Leo_ might hate him for it.

“Aye,” Scotty says softly. “I dinnae agree with it, either.”

She straightens her shoulders and stares coldly at Jim. “He certainly can deceive you without feeling guilty. For five years, Jim.”

“It's not the same,” he presses, knowing full well Leo would have felt guilty. “This will exacerbate the emotional trauma he’s already experienced.”

He fears Leonard would never be the same. He’d been the victim of abuse while undercover for five terrible years. He could be facing a horrific accusation. And what if he is taken into custody by Spock, his friends, and Chris? Jim deceiving him again? His life threatened? All of this based on lies?

It’s too much for one man. For anyone.

This is his greatest fear of all. That his lover would never be the same man again, but a stranger to him once this was over.

“If this is a question about forgiveness, he will forgive you, Jim. Just as I'm sure you'll forgive him,” she says. “He knows the cost. He's known all along.”

He shakes his head. “This will change him.”

“Anyone in this deep a cover, especially someone who must suffer because of it, knows the consequences, the risk of being conditioned, their very mental health at risk. We are prepared to help him adjust to life again once he’s free, and you’ll be a big part of that.” She moves closer to him and peers into his eyes. “Not all is lost, Jim. You will have to be gentle with Leonard but firm. Show him your love. Remind him of it, so that he can momentarily move past his shock at seeing you alive and safely get you both out of this. You’re the captain, now, and if you lead him through this mission, he’ll be alright. He’ll get through this trauma, not without scars, but with you—as long as he knows you’re both leading him and behind him.”

He isn't certain this is the answer but he has no choice.

His shoulders sag. “How are you planning on getting me into the middle of this…” He waves his hand over himself. “When I’m obviously alive? And can’t be seen alive?”

“This,” Scotty says, stepping away from the shelf to reveal a face on a stand.

Geoff’s face. And a wig.

Jim sucks in a breath. He’d never seen a mask like this in use before, but Chris had at one time hinted it was in the works. “This is your answer?’

“It’ll work, trust me,” Shadow says. She grabs two other objects on the shelf and hands them to Jim. “Thanks to Mister Scott, your fingers will be temporarily functional with these.”

“You can also adjust the skin tone,” Scotty says quietly, frown on his face. “To match the mask.”

Jim stares at them first before realizing they were thin gloves. Long, thin gloves, probably going clear up to his biceps. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Mister Scott has been working non-stop since we kidnapped him, after we secured your body.” She nods.

Jim glances at Scotty, who'd taken the mask off the stand and now held it. “I’m sorry you were brought into this.”

“I’d give the shirt off my back for you, for the good doctor,” Scotty says tightly. “But not for the likes of her. I asked her, very politely, mind you, what it’d been used for before this. And when. But she says...” Without looking at Shadow, Scotty points a thumb back at her.

“It's classified,” she replies, crossing her arms.

Scotty’s eyes flicker with frustration. “See? Classified. And you think we should trust her? She already had the prototype for this facial mask in her hands. For some time, now. That's what scares me. Tell me, Jim, what does that mean?”

Jim gulps. It indicates that Geoff wasn’t Geoff. That his best friend, his lover, has been working with an imposter at least some of the time.

“Exactly,” Scotty leans in and whispers harshly. “We don't know who has been friends with the good doctor all this time.”

Jim glares at Shadow. “Who the hell has been working with Leo?” he demands.

“Just because we had this in our possession prior to this mission doesn’t mean that a stranger has been working at the hospital,” she denies.

“Like hell there hasn’t been. Who?” he demands even louder.

Her arms drop to her sides. “Give it to him,” she orders Scotty.

“No,” he says pointedly and crosses his arms. “I will not.”

Shadow sighs. “I appreciate your level-headedness, your devotion to Jim, but you’re only wasting time, endangering lives.”

She pries the mask from Scotty's grip. His scowl deepens as she hands it to Jim. He keeps it on his lap as he inspects it.

“I will say this and only this,” Shadow says. “He’s someone who will cooperate with us, just like the real Geoff. He’ll be able to deceive Chris.”

“Sir,” Uhura says, rushing through the door. Her eyes briefly fall on Jim before finding Shadow. “Sulu has been in contact. There's been a blast at McCoy’s.”

Jim inhales sharply. “Casualties?”

“Damage?” Shadow asks at the same time.

Uhura glances back and forth between them. “We determined it was on the second floor. And we also know McCoy left the hospital before Spock arrived.”

“Chris told Jocelyn about Leonard. I'm sure of it,” Shadow says, shaking her head. “And, he’s forcing Special Agent McCoy to deal with this on his own.”

Uhura opens her mouth to speak again, hesitating as Jim gropes for the edge of the bed. Hearing Leonard’s formal title again stirs him to action. He grimaces and slides himself to the edge with his legs hanging over, envisioning the bedrooms blown to bits. He hopes Joanna wasn’t in hers.

He hopes Leonard hasn’t fallen for anything Jocelyn might have said to him. If he was still alive, that is.

“Dammit,” he whispers, fighting another wave of helplessness.

Shadow is immediately at his side. “I know you're determined, Jim—”

He warns her with a look. “You're wasting your breath trying to convince me I'm too weak to get out of this damn bed. I'm a Kirk, remember? And you said yourself you needed me.” He turns to Uhura without waiting for Shadow’s reply. “Casualties?”

“We detect only two bodies, and they're on the first floor or outside,” she says. “But Sulu and Chekov are already there. In McCoy’s car.”

That meant Leonard and Joanna were in mortal danger, if not dead already, and they had no tracking device, since Leo’s car was clean for the sake of keeping his cover.

“That’s not all,” Uhura continues. “It’s...Spock.”

Shadow stills. “Go on.”

“Something happened at the hospital. He has both Doctor M’benga,” she pauses, eyes darting to Jim, “and Chris Pike. Pike is accusing M’Benga of being a spy, but Pike was holding a knife to him.”

Jim is struck with relief. “We don’t have to involve Leonard. Only find him, if he survived, probably at Sallough City.”

Shadow’s eyes harden. “No. This is our chance.”

Jim shakes his head. “I don’t see how—”

“I need to get inside Chris’s compound,” she says, her gaze sharply shifting between the two of them.

“What?” Jim asks, folding his arms. He should’ve known there was more to the story. “He has a compound?”

“You know it to be an old location SCIF, and so do others, but it is far more.” Her expression turns grim. “In fact, many who work there are under the impression it is a black ops SCIF, albeit a little rudimentary.”

Jim exchanges a look with Scotty. “Why do you need to go there?” he asks quietly.

“Why do _we_ need to go there,” she asserts.

Jim frowns. “We, then.”

She clasps her hands in front of her, peering carefully at him. “To gain access to his computers, prevent him from draining funds from Jocelyn’s accounts for himself. To make sure he’s not tipping her off with more secrets,” she says. “Basically, corrupt his computer system.”

“You don’t have access?”

“I would but he’s an Assistant Director, or was,” she says slowly. “He’d been, let’s just say, unofficially demoted and given an undercover assignment years ago—at this particular regional office—and never pulled out of it. Your dad had been promoted to an assistant director the week before he died, despite his youth. The same job Chris once had.”

Jim blinks at her. His dad had been promoted? To take Chris’s job?

“I dinnae see that coming,” Scotty mutters under his breath.

Jim shakes his head in disbelief. “No wonder he hated my dad.”

He loathes the thought, but he can’t help but consider that the timing—his father’s death—had been far too coincidental.

_Anonymous tip…_

Nausea swells in his throat. If he thinks about it too much, he knows he’ll never make it out of his own head to save Leo.

He stuffs the knowledge down as far as he can.

Shadow looks at him grimly, as if she knew where his mind was leading him. “I know this is a lot to take in, Jim, but I need a distraction to gain access. He’ll let me inside if he has McCoy in custody, since Spock will come to me for guidance about Geoff and Chris. I will act like I’m in agreement with Chris. So will Spock, eventually, but first he will take them to where Leonard is. This is my way—our way, Jim—to get inside that compound. If I don’t accomplish this task, things will get out of control and we will have no chance to stop Jocelyn’s operation, her influence, from spreading. But you have to keep your identity hidden, even from Leonard. I highly doubt that Special Agent McCoy would want you to sacrifice his mission, and all that he's done, on account of him, after all these years. Now do you understand?”

Scotty glances anxiously at Jim.

Jim stands in his gown and grabs his clothing. He had naively put this organization on a pedestal, though it'd never been perfect to begin with. Now, he sees it’s corrupted at its very heart. Going as far as sacrificing the mental, physical, and emotional well-being of a great man. An intelligent, compassionate, unselfish but hurting man. The man he loves more than his own life.

He also sees why Spock had been so distraught.

 _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few_ , he repeats to himself, giving in to a quiet, mirthless laugh.

“I understand perfectly,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peers fearfully from behind hands*
> 
> And you thought the twists were over. :) If the ‘bigger picture’ isn’t clear enough, let me know. And if you’re upset that the story took this turn, be upset at the manipulative characters - not me. The very manipulative characters Jim most likely wants to see get their comeuppance. But, long story short, a lot of the pain Leonard is experiencing in this story (in the small time frame it represents, which is just over three days so far) could have been avoided, including his grief, the accusation and subsequent arrest, though it would’ve meant risking a hell of a lot more.
> 
> “The needs of the many…”
> 
> On that note, I really really REALLY would love to hear from you. I know this story hasn’t received a whole lot of attention/kudos/etc, but like I told someone else...that’s okay. It’s not why I wrote it. Not why I shared. This was a very indulgent fic for me, and I can’t stress enough how much fun I’ve had with it, though I have put personal emotion in it based on things I recently experienced. 
> 
> If you can’t read between the lines, I am just dying for a little love here. :)
> 
> Until next time, which will probably be a few days...I’m trying to finish another chapter before I update with Chapter Thirteen. (I also have to write for And If I Stand and Down the Savage Mountain.) The next handful of chapters will be in Jim’s POV. Those will contain more “out-of-chronology” stuff that will shed a lot of light on things that you have been questioning. 
> 
> Thanks so much for hanging in there with me! :) I’m so appreciative of you all for taking the time to read - it means a lot! Thank you to junker5 and diamondblue4 for being so kind and helping me with the story! *hugs* 
> 
> If you caught the Into Darkness references, or anything else, you get that extra credit. Also, let me clarify that there are three "Geoffries" if you count Jim. Geoffrey #1 is the real man who is a surgeon and friend to McCoy. He is also floater, occasionally assisting the FBI. Geoffrey #2 actually works for the FBI, as an agent. You might be seeing more of Geoff #2. Geoffrey #3 is Jim. 
> 
> SCIF: Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, pronounced SKIFF (where SCI can be stored, discussed, electronically processed- high security)
> 
> floater: a person used one time, occasionally, or even unknowingly
> 
> I'll post in a few days. Thank you so much for reading. :)


	13. Turning Tables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart is overflowing with gratitude for all of you who are reading and commenting. THANK YOU. I've said before that this is a highly indulgent fic for me, so even if I didn't get a single reader, I'd still write it. LOL. But it makes this crazy journey so much more fulfilling to know there are even a few who are enjoying it, too. Thank you.
> 
> Diamondblue4 and Junker5 - it takes a village to raise a fanfic author. JK. ;) I am so grateful for your patient editing and replies to my questions, for your thoughts and encouragement on this crazy journey. *hugs* May your kindness be repaid ten-fold.
> 
> I'm working on the last cluster of chapters as I write this *sobs* but have FOUR chapters that I'll be sharing over the holiday weekend and into next week. 
> 
> I'm seriously considering writing more in this verse. It has really grown on me and there will be one or two plot points that could warrant a sequel or accompanying one-shot or two. I hope that interests at least a few of you. :)
> 
> I want to give a shout-out to all the Pike-lovers out there. As I am one of those people, myself. But for this fic...I didn't want to go the obvious route of Admiral Marcus or even John Harrison for the baddie. I needed something fresh, something that no one would expect. When I write him in this story, I usually have to think of him as a "Mirror Pike." As if he's stuck in this modern world. So if it helps you read, you can do that, too. :) I hope by the end of the fic, when you see how life has changed for Jim and Leonard, you will forgive me. 
> 
> This chapter begins very shortly after the last one, but fifty-nine hours before Jim reveals himself to Leonard. It's all in Jim's POV and does overlap an older scene, although there is new material as well. I hope you enjoy it.

_Fifty-nine hours ago_

 

It’s almost too coincidental when Chris Pike tries to kill Geoff—Imposter Geoff, as it turns out—at the hospital. Not only does it give them the perfect excuse to take Pike to Leonard, but it sets up the Domino Effect that Shadow anticipated. Jim humorlessly chalks it up to being one of those strange, guaranteed things in the life of an FBI agent that Pike had told him about long ago.

Hiding in the shadows outside the hospital, Jim watches as Spock leads Pike and Imposter Geoff (what other name could he give a man who dresses up as a friend, only to lie to Leo who knows how many times?) to his car. It’s surreal seeing the man who'd been like a father to him in handcuffs. He can't quite grasp the thought of Geoff—any Geoff—in handcuffs, either.

He’ll have to step out soon, and he prepares himself for a challenge he’d never thought he’d experience. There were no signs of Joanna and Leo at their house, no report of either of them going to nearby safehouses. It’s obvious they'll find them at Sallough City. Once there, he’ll have to act the part of a shocked colleague to Leonard, who’d kept him in the dark for four years. He’ll be the scared, clueless surgeon to Pike, the very man who’d tried to kill him.

He has no choice but to continue with this mission in order to free Leo. But he simply can’t bring himself to believe that he’s about to betray him in the worst possible way.

He flexes his hands, turns them over to double check the ‘gloves’ were in perfect working order. Scotty had warned him before he’d left Shadow’s bunker that he hadn’t enough time to perfect them with the limited resources he had. For one, Scotty could only engineer thinner gloves than the other Geoffrey wore, ones that tore easily. Two, the gloves, also called skins, had a shorter shelf life. So far they looked just like new, giving him full function of his numbed fingers. But, who knew what he’d be facing in the near future.

One bedroom at the McCoy residence had been blown to pieces. Leo had obviously attacked Petrick, blood surrounding him in the grass, possibly traces of blood from both men. What if Joanna or Leo or both required medical care? With a blast like that, it’s inevitable. Although Jim has some medical knowledge under his belt, he’s not a surgeon like Leo or like Geoff, whoever he is. He’s not a medic or even a nurse. He’d have to bluff his way through most procedures, praying that his gloves wouldn’t snag on a needle or scalpel. Or, on the handcuffs he’d be wearing in Spock’s car.

Spock opens the trunk of the car, and his ‘prisoners’ look at him. Imposter Geoff wears a practiced mask of fear. Pike’s expression is filled with annoyance.

Jim holds his breath, knowing what was to come. Spock has to act like he’s suspicious and operating under the illusion that he can’t trust anyone. If anyone could pull that off, it’s Spock, but Jim is worried for his friend. Spock never lies, and even when it comes to his job as an agent he upholds his integrity at all costs. This mission will no doubt change all of that.

Spock stares at Pike. “Get into the trunk. Do not bother trying to escape. The internal release mechanism has been disabled.”

Pike doesn’t blink. “You don't trust me, not that I blame you. I’ll be the first to admit that it did look suspicious but I had no intention of harming Doctor M’Benga. I was merely apprehending him.”

Spock’s eyes are cool. “I will take you to where I believe Special Agent McCoy is seeking refuge, the only person I feel I can trust in this matter other than Shadow. After which, I will decide the proper course.”

“I understand why you’re taking us to McCoy, now that Jim’s dead, too, but what makes you so sure Geoff’s innocent? That Leonard is?” Pike asks softly as they stand by the car. “After all I told you about him, all that we've been through, Spock, you still don't believe me.”

Jim shakes his head in disbelief. Has Pike always been a smooth talker? To everyone? How had he been so blind to his manipulative nature? He’d experienced it firsthand when he’d recruited him, daring him to do better than his father. He should have seen it.

Then if that wasn’t enough, Jim had not only been fooled by Chris, but he’d been blind to Leo’s second life. (Or, was it his first life? Or his real life?)

That is two strikes against Jim. Maybe it had been a good thing he’d planned to run off with Leo, leaving this world behind him. He certainly isn't as smart as he’d thought himself to be.

“Perhaps it is you who I believe is innocent, and I prefer to keep Doctor M’Benga within plain sight,” Spock replies deftly, giving Pike reason to believe that he was on his side, after all. “But keep both of you apart as a precaution.”

Pike nods, eyeing the trunk. “I guess that means you do want me in there for the duration of the ride.”

Spock arches a brow. “Indeed.”

“How long will this trip take, exactly?” he asks.

Jim smirks. Pike should know that Spock won’t fall for that simple question and reveal anything about Sallough City.

As expected, Spock doesn't even answer.

Pike’s eyes narrow. “Do you even know where you’re going? That’s not like you, Spock.”

“No more questions,” Spock says brusquely. “It is time to leave.”

Pike stiffens. “As you wish.”

Spock gives him a hand into the trunk, Pike’s face dark like a storm. Once he's settled, Spock closes the trunk.

Jim takes a deep breath. It’s his turn, now.

He steps out in costume and reaches the car in several strides. Pike can’t get wind of the switch. They’re quiet as they stand observing each other at nearly the same eye level.

If Jim gives Imposter Geoff a calculating look, he makes no apology for it. It’s the first time he’s face-to-face with this particular Geoff since realizing he’s not the real Geoffrey M’Benga, but someone else altogether. It unnerves Jim for two reasons. One, Geoff isn’t looking at him. It’s obvious the surgeon-agent wants to avoid any eye contact with Jim. But, oddly enough, he looks right at Spock. Two, Jim can’t even speak to this imposter and demand answers. He wants to on behalf of Leo. He imagines that when this is all over, that at least one Geoffrey M’Benga will hightail it out of here, never to be seen again, the real man and man underneath gone forever.

It seems only fair that before this “Geoff” takes off, he fesses up and gives them some clue as to who he is. For Leo’s sake. They were friends by all appearances. Jim has to assume that this Geoff had made the hospital bearable for Leo like the real Geoff. Leonard counted him—both of them—as a true friend.

Spock swiftly switches the cuffs. Jim climbs into the backseat of the car. Geoff finally looks his way.

It’s brief—and he can’t see his face as clearly as he wants with the open door partially obstructing his view—but he peers back for those few seconds. Geoff’s eyes are somber, as if they’d seen the whole world.

He doesn’t know what to think when they flicker with a deep emotion. Remorse, or sadness, Jim isn’t quite sure. He has no idea why Geoff would look so guiltily at him in the first place.

Spock holds up the gag before Jim has a chance to lie across the seat. The cloth settles uncomfortably around his mouth and is tied snugly at the back of his head. Next are his feet. He lies down on his side, grimacing when the bonds around his ankles cut into his skin. Spock’s expression is apologetic as he pulls away.

Since he can’t smile back, Jim shrugs and lazily raises his brows to ease his fears. They could probably get away without all of this until they reach Sallough City, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Geoff steps forward, hesitating before he heads back in the hospital. He stares down at Jim unexpectedly. _Be careful_ , he mouths.

Surprised by the concern, struck at the oddity of his situation, Jim manages only a quick nod before Spock shuts the door. He’ll see him again, soon, at the compound.

As soon as they turn out of the hospital, Spock tunes to a classical radio station.

Jim has never appreciated classical music, but as strains of a Mozart concerto fills the air, he thinks he does now. Geoff’s eyes haunt him, his inevitable betrayal to Leo looms ahead, and he can’t find the sweet spot in the backseat that he knows is there. He can’t relax and his mind is racing, but the music helps him focus. At the very least, Pike hears nothing other than Rachmaninoff, Chopin, and Beethoven.

The long ride almost ends too soon. How could he ever be ready to betray Leonard like this?

His heart is in his throat as Chekov and Sulu take him to Leo’s bunker. He braces himself for anything. But the first thought that runs through Jim’s mind when he sees Leonard is that he looks more like Leonard McCoy than ever before.

He’s scowling like it’s going out of style. His hair is a mess. Hell, he’s a complete mess from head to toe, shirt ripped, multiple cuts and burns over his body. But he’s dangerous and smooth despite the concussion and obvious injuries from the grenade blast.

He even tries to scare Jim.

He succeeds when he hurls his knife past Jim’s ear unexpectedly, with a skill and precision he's never seen before.

Jim wants to kiss him.

Reveal who he is.

Protect him from further emotional trauma.

Instead, he’s forced to lie, to go along with this mission like it’s a day at the beach. He washes his hands, fighting a million emotions.

Leo is watching him, and he fumbles at the sink. Not because he’s being watched. The hand-skin Scotty had created has a minor glitch, causing him to lose sensation in his fingers again. His breath hitches, the lapse making him nervous. If they don’t start working again, he won’t be able to hold a gun. He won’t be able to stitch a wound. Basically...nothing.

“Dammit,” he whispers under his breath.

The gloves resume working in thirty seconds, and he goes over to the table as soon as the gloves are working. Leo is there watching over Joanna-Donna.

“What happened?” he asks him.

“Grenade,” Leonard answers tiredly. “Jocelyn tossed it on the bed beside her and I pulled her away as fast as I could. But the wall...exploded…”

He looks straight at Leo, willing him to see the truth in his eyes. “And you?”

Leo doesn't answer right away. It’s obvious he has a concussion, that he’s distracted and can hardly focus. In fact, his eyes momentarily close but he flicks them open and asks, “What?” in an indignant voice.

Joanna-Donna whimpers, and Leo immediately comforts her by holding her hand. “I’m here, kiddo,” he whispers.

Jim is touched by the absolute love he shows his sister. He can’t be too angry at Leo. It would’ve been completely against Leonard’s nature to have left Donna out of his life, not if she’d wanted revenge, just like he had. There was no way he’d allow her to go her own way, knowing she could possibly put herself in harm’s way without the proper training and guidance. In his opinion, Leonard had done the only thing he could. He’d kept her close, from doing anything brash that would’ve ended her life.

“You’re barely holding on, Leo. Your arm is stiff and…” He glances down at Leo’s leg. It looks worse off than Joanna’s shoulder. “You’re limping.”

Jim doesn’t know how Leonard is even standing. He wants to plead with him and ask him to give in and make this easier for everyone—but he can’t.

Leonard runs a hand over his face and denies it. “I’m fine.”

“He has been limping since the explosion,” Sulu interjects.

Jim fights a sigh of relief that there is at least one other person who would have Leo’s back.

But Leonard stubbornly glares at Sulu. “It’s a flesh wound.”

“You can’t perform this surgery, Leonard,” Jim says quietly. “You probably have a concussion, too.”

“The hell I can’t do this,” he snaps back. “There’s no one else.”

Jim impulsively glances at Spock. A mistake. Leo notices.

“Doctor McCoy, I must also suggest that this is not in the best interest of your patient,” Spock agrees.

Leonard swears at them and counters. “Geoffrey, hand me—”

Jim quickly grasps Leo’s hands and holds them down on the table. “No, Leonard. Sit down.”

“No,” Leonard says adamantly, staring into his eyes.

Jim holds his gaze, wanting him to see.

He won’t listen to Shadow. He’d made that choice before they left and failed to put his contacts in correctly. Before this is over, he will reveal himself to Leo. It’s the only way he thinks Leo will ever forgive him.

He’s not worried that Pike will notice his eyes. Pike isn’t giving “Geoff” the time of day. All he’s interested in is Leonard. Setting him up. Pinning Jim’s murder on him. Using him.

“You can’t do this,” Jim pleads quietly to Leo.

Leonard looks quizzically into his eyes.

He thinks Leo notices that something is different but Leo’s concussion, his fatigue, gets in the way of clarity.

“It’s not a matter of can’t, Geoff. I have to,” Leo whispers, rubbing his forehead.

“Leo,” Joanna-Donna mumbles.

Looking back on it later, Jim realizes that everything went to shit from that moment on.

Leonard croons over her, assuring her that she’ll be okay, but she says his name again.

“Leo…”

Chris looks delighted over the slip, like a bird sinking his sharp claws into his prey. Leo, vulnerable, confused, and hurt, can’t defend himself. And Joanna-Donna is much the same—and in shock.

Jim begins to understand why the FBI frowns upon married couples working together in the field. He’s overwhelmed with the desire to protect Leonard, whom he loves with his whole heart, and makes another decision. He can’t become the ‘Geoff’ Leo knows, not really.

He decides to defy Shadow’s order and act more like himself than she’d ordered him to.

“Leo, just listen,” he whispers.

He rests his hand on Leo’s shoulder. His heart breaks as Leonard leans into it.

“Just...sit,” he murmurs. “I promise that we’ll get help for her.”

“No,” Leonard says in a weak voice, belying his mental and physical fatigue. “You don’t understand. I have to do this. I have—”

“Why?” Spock asks abruptly.

“Isn't it obvious? She’s my daughter.”

“Yet you are adamant that you are in charge of any treatment for her. Are not physicians forbidden to care for family members?” Spock questions.

Jim steps away the second Spock counters him, a painful process but it must be done to show Pike that he’s on his side. He wonders if Spock is hating himself as much as Jim is for doing this to Leonard. He quickly surmises that he could be. Although Spock was a logical man, at times he has more heart than all of the team combined.

“What are you hiding?” Spock asks softly.

When it’s Jim’s turn to show his “doubt,” all he can manage is the obvious.

“The name,” Jim says slowly, hating himself for adding to his lover’s shame and hurt. They’re all looking at Leo like he’s lying. Like he can’t be trusted. “She called you Leo.”

His accusations get lost in the others. He forgets his own self-loathing as things spiral downward.

“It's just a pet name,” Leonard says in defense.

“Your daughter calls you by your first name?” Spock asks.

“Is this your plan?” Chris taunts. “Gathering us all here? Lying to us?”

Leonard's eyes flood with hurt. “What the hell are you getting at, Chris?”

Jim thinks he sees victory in Chris’s eyes already.

“You brought us here, made us believe you were the victim,” Pike says, the words dripping from his mouth like honey. “Like you always do. It's a pattern with you.”

With that, Jim decides he can’t allow himself to feel numb anymore. He can’t be an indifferent bystander. He can’t stand by and be Geoff when he’s Jim. Not when Pike is accusing the man he loves of doing cruel, incomprehensible things that will scar him.

“What?” Leonard asks incredulously.

“You like being the victim. It gives you a different sense of control on one hand. On the other hand, you also get to surrender yourself to a beautiful woman,” Chris continues.

Jim’s blood runs cold. He can't believe what he’s hearing.

“The hell I like it,” Leo whispers.

Jim glares at Chris. He receives a warning look from Spock and belatedly tries to reel himself back in. He breathes slowly out through his nostrils, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. If he doesn’t control himself, he knows he will jeopardize the entire mission by punching Pike in the fucking face.

“How could you...say that about him?” Joanna-Donna cries, tears slipping down. “He hates her! He fucking hates that bitch!”

“Joanna, you’re hurt and in shock,” Leonard tries to soothe her.

His compassion and unselfishness shine through as he puts her well-being before his own. Jim feels a flash of pride and sadness all at the same time. Chris will use anything to get to Leo—even his daughter.

“Please, kiddo, you need to calm down,” Leo urges again.

“They don’t know, Leo,” she argues with a shake of her head. “They don’t understand!”

“Leo,” Chris muses aloud and gets up from his chair.

Spock nods to Chekov, who in turn releases Pike’s cuffs. Dread churns in the pit of Jim’s stomach. There was no going back, now. They have to go through with it.

“Never knew you could have such a quick change of heart,” Leo deadpans, looking straight at Spock.

The words shoot like sharp arrows into Jim’s heart, as if Leonard had said them to him and not Spock. After all, he was also betraying Leonard. Not just Spock.

“All that she's done to you. All of it, Leonard,” Chris says smoothly.

Leonard shakes his head, wavering on his feet and muttering under his breath.

“The pain. The humiliation. You enjoy it too much,” Chris continues softly. “It’s like a drug for you, so you hung around for more. Then you saw your chance, to free her, go back on your own word. You ensnared us into your trap. But first, you took Jim out of the equation. Then, you wanted her to escape, so you didn’t act as an agent worthy of a badge. All because...you like it.”

“That's not true,” Leonard rasps.

“Isn't it, McCoy?” Chris mocks. “I wondered why it was taking you so long. Five years, Leonard,” he calls softly. “Five long years.”

Leonard closes his eyes. Jim digs his nails into the palms of his hands.

“I wondered about you before, but now it's clear,” Chris muses. “She's conditioned you. You're compromised, McCoy. And it’s on me. I should’ve seen it.”

Jim stands in disbelief. So this really was the way Chris planned to build a case against Leo.

There’s no way anyone on his team would ever fall for it. Yet, that is exactly what has to appear to happen in order for them to stop Pike and also Jocelyn once and for all.

“I did everything I could to apprehend her,” Leonard says in a weakened voice.

Jim can hardly breathe. The man he loves is slowly losing control before his very eyes.

“Did you?” Chris asks.

The question was a ploy to cause doubt, and Jim inwardly seethes. Though he doesn’t know what happened between Jocelyn and Leonard at the house, he can almost imagine the scene. Jocelyn, doing everything she could to disarm Leonard. Leonard, steeling himself against her sweet-talk. Since Jocelyn had Joanna, the confrontation would have been that much more dangerous. Chris is using all that he can against Leo. He believes Leonard would be strong enough to realize Pike’s plan of attack, had Jim not died. But he had died.

The color drains from Leonard’s face.

Jim’s hopes crash to the floor.

Shadow had tried to ease Jim’s fears, telling him they’d do all that they could to help Leonard recover from this. But if Leonard blames himself, it indicates that he’s conditioned more than they realized. Jim doesn’t want to say that it’s right what they’re doing to Leonard, hiding the very fact that Jim’s alive, but it does look that Shadow had ordered them to do the best thing for Leo at this time. Leo’s reaction confirms that he truly is cracking, that he would compromise the mission if Jim revealed himself.

Chris sighs. “You have your answer.”

“Noooo,” Joanna moans.

“I wish it didn't have to be like this, McCoy, but you leave me no choice. Spock, take him into custody,” Chris orders.

“And Doctor M'Benga?” Spock asks.

Chris peruses Joanna before returning his gaze to Jim, as Geoffrey. “He was only protecting himself. I admit...I was overly cautious. However, he knows too much. We’ll keep him in custody, have him treat Joanna’s arm while we consider our options.”

“She needs surgery,” Leonard says. Jim doesn't imagine the bite to his voice and almost smiles that Leonard remains the doctor, even during an uncertain time like this. “Not later. Now.”

“It’s not your problem, McCoy,” Chris states evenly. “Spock, take him into custody.”

Leonard visibly stiffens and steps back.

Chris does the unthinkable and whips a Glock straight at him. Leo sucks in a breath and freezes. Jim does, too, almost simultaneously.

“No,” Joanna begins to sob, curling herself into a ball.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, Leonard,” Chris says. “There’s nowhere to go. Cuff him,” he orders Spock.

“No, you can’t,” Joanna-Donna cries out.

“Joanna, it’ll be okay,” Leonard whispers, wincing as Spock forces his hands behind him.

Leonard cries out, unable to hide how hurt he really is. Jim can’t help himself and lurches forward. Sulu catches him just in time, grabbing him by both arms.

Leo’s eyes snap up to meet his and send him a worried look. Jim ceases his struggling for his sake, so Leo doesn’t have to worry that his ‘friend’ would be killed on top of everything else.

“Dad!” Joanna-Donna protests. “Don't let them do this!”

They all ignore her cries, except for Jim. He silently slips to her side and holds her hand. No one notices. Not one eye turns their way.

Chris prods Leonard into a corner of the room where he pushes him to the ground, despite Spock’s best efforts to prevent it. Leonard falls with a thump, his head taking the brunt of the fall. Feeling helpless and helplessly guilty, Jim unconsciously squeezes Joanna-Donna’s hand.

She gasps softly when she sees his eyes.

 

oOo

 

They’ve been locked in Leonard's safehouse for an hour when Jim—as Geoff—poses a question he believes the surgeon would’ve asked by now.

“If your communications are working,” he begins hesitantly, casting a furtive glance Pike’s way, “Then why don’t we just call for backup?”

Chris is standing with his arms crossed above an unconscious Leo. “Due to the sensitive nature of the situation, I cannot involve anyone else.”

Jim frowns, wanting to appear confused. “But, don’t you have to go through the right—”

“No,” Chris says.

Jim scratches his head. “But, maybe if you release the hand—”

“Be quiet,” Chris snaps.

Jim flinches back, giving substance to his fearful facade.

“You are a civilian,” Chris mutters darkly, glancing back down at Leonard. “You don’t know how our agency would handle a situation like this. The alleged murderer is emotionally and mentally unstable, a result of being in deep undercover. This is a complicated matter.”

“I was only thinking that it was unnecessary while he’s already incapacitated, when he’s already injured. My apologies,” Jim says and looks down at his hands.

He’s sitting in the chair that had been Leonard's, the one beside his sister. Joanna is too weak and injured to move. Jim has tried his best to keep her comfortable, even sutured her shoulder. He finds a sedative but delays in giving it to her. Mouth firm, he tries to read her expression. He thinks she knows who he is, or at least suspects that he isn’t who he says he is.

He fingers the hypodermic needle a little too much, a little too long.

“I would just go ahead and sedate her, if I were you, Doctor,” Chris says evenly.

Jim doesn’t give Pike the satisfaction of turning around. _Shit_ , he thinks.

“Oh, are you a doctor?” he asks without inflection, trying to keep the snark out of his words.

“Sedate her,” Chris bites out.

“I gave her pain medication to keep her comfortable,” Jim says calmly, reaching to check her pulse. “It isn’t necessary to sedate her now, especially if we are to leave this place soon and she needs to be questioned.”

“What is in the best interest of your patient?” Chris asks just as calmly.

Jim hears a threat in those words and freezes.

He glances up to see Chris pointing a gun straight at him.

Spock steps forward, hands out in supplication. “Captain, you are emotionally compromised,” he says softly. “As is the doctor. Leonard has been his friend and colleague. This is not the way to discover the truth. Please stand down.”

Chris blinks, his hand shaking. “You're right,” he whispers, rubbing his free hand along his face. “You're right. I'm sorry, Doctor…” He draws a tremulous breath and drops the gun. “I don't know what got into me. I want him...t-to pay...for t-taking away my...so-son.”

Jim nearly vomits as Chris begins to cry, shielding his face with his hands. After a moment, Chris breathes in, then exhales slowly as if to regain control of himself.

“Jim would be ashamed of me.” Chris wipes his eyes.

Jim swallows bitterly. His hurt grows and he has to suppress it for Leonard’s sake. For Joanna-Donna’s. He’s used to detaching himself from horrific experiences and now catalogues this as just one more terrible thing in his past he has to deal with and make disappear. He refiles the life he'd had with Chris as his father, clumping it with the likes of the Governor. He’s determined that he’ll still have that new life with Leo when this is all over.

His dad was a hero. Lauded for his bravery, giving Jim a complex that he’s still trying to understand. He won’t deny that he’s reckless at times, trying to prove himself to those around him. Other times, simply to do what he knew was right, what needed to get done, even if it was dangerous. #381 had succeeded, maybe not in the way he’d originally planned, but he’s alive, isn’t he? And being ‘dead’ does give him certain advantages.

He might not be like his dad except for one thing—he doesn’t believe in no-win scenarios, either. As dark as this is, as deeply conditioned as Leonard appears to be, Jim won’t give up his hope for happiness with him. Leonard will need him more than ever. To heal. To discover how beautiful a new life together could be despite their emotional scars.

He will not fail him.

He gets up and walks over to Chris, handing him a tissue from the pack by Leo’s medical supplies. Chris looks at him in surprise, but Jim averts his eyes.

“Apology accepted,” he says without inflection and walks away.

It's an out of body experience and all he can manage.

The room grows quiet, most eyes upon him. Jim doesn't want to draw more attention to himself. He can't draw more attention. He also wants to watch over Leo, who stirs in his unconscious state.

He holds the needle by Joanna-Donna’s arm, waiting for a sign that she understands. She meets his eyes and nods. Chris’s eyes bore into his back as he sedates her. For the next seven hours, he remains by Leonard’s side.

Leonard mutters his name in his sleep. Jim’s eyes water, tears threatening to spill over.

It's not that Pike had killed his father. Or framed his lover. It's the cry of his name on Leonard’s lips. Believing Jim is gone from him forever. And, in fear that Leonard would break, Jim unable to show him the truth.

Spock notices his struggle, everyone else trying to find another way out of the place. He comes to stand between Jim and Chris, hands clasped behind his back. He’s always the protector, and in this case, the protector who’d disappeared for more than six months, now to return. His plan to go rogue and catch the the mole off-guard had actually worked.

The mole had, indeed, made his mistake.

No one messes with Leonard. No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, review? I'm enjoying your thoughts and ideas very much. I also welcome questions, though I can't answer all of them. :)
> 
> I'll post the next chapter soon!


	14. If I Could Only See, I Could See You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter in Jim's POV. It begins about seven hours after the last chapter ends, or fifty hours before Jim reveals himself to Leonard. They are still in Leonard's safehouse.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Thank you also to Junker5 and Diamondblue 4 for diligently editing and offering advice/encouragement. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next installment. :)

_Approximately fifty hours ago_

Jim awkwardly shifts his body as he sits beside Leonard on the floor. He can’t believe that their plans—and even Chris’s—have been foiled by Leonard himself. If Leonard and Joanna’s conditions weren’t so serious, he’d find it funny. Stuck in this Batcave of Leo’s, as Sulu so eloquently called it? For eight hours? Jim still couldn't believe it.

But laughing is the last thing on his mind. The weight of the world sinks down on him. He can’t relax, his shoulders feeling like they’ve been hammered from one end to the other a million times over. The stress of this mission, crossing death’s door less than twenty-four hours ago, facing Leo after learning the truth—it was all creeping up on him in a way that simply couldn’t be denied.

He gives himself the best pep talk that he can, reminding himself that people endured worse. But the truth is, he’d been dead. A conspiracy unveiled. He should’ve taken a rest on the cot Sulu had found upstairs. Shadow had warned him about over-exerting himself, not that this mission has given him any rest in the first place.

But he just couldn’t and wouldn’t remove himself from Leonard’s side. Besides the fact that he can't tear himself away from Leo, it gives him a clear view of the man that had once called him “Son.” He wants to know every single damn move he makes.

“Why hasn’t he awakened yet?” Chris asks as he paces.

“Like I told you before,” Jim says, shooting him a dark look while Chris’s back is turned. By the time Chris pivots on his heel, his face is neutral again and he is checking Leonard's pulse. “He gave himself a very large dose of the painkiller he kept here. Accidentally,” he adds.

“He’s a surgeon. A doctor,” Chris emphasizes. “How did he accidentally give himself too much of anything?”

“He has a concussion,” Jim reiterates. “He’s not thinking clearly.”

He looks down at Leonard, feeling Chris’s inquisitive eyes on them both.

“He can’t help—” he begins, voice fading when Leonard cries out.

“No!” Leo mutters, head tossing to and fro.

Chris stops pacing and comes closer. Jim doesn’t like the way Chris stands behind him, looking over his shoulder, and Jim moves his body to hide Leonard as much as possible. He palms Leonard’s face as if he’s checking for a fever.

“Leo, you’re okay,” he swiftly assures him, though it’s clear he’s not aware of his surroundings yet.

“No, no more,” Leo mumbles, eyes clenched shut.

“Hold still, Leo,” Jim intones. “You’re safe.”

“Please…”

The whimper breaks his heart, and he reaches for Leonard as his head rolls to the side. He places his hands on both sides of his face before his head smacks the ground.

“Hey, you're okay,” he hushes him, adjusting the pillow under his head. “You mustn’t try to move your head, Leo. You took a pretty bad hit.” He pauses, waiting for a sign that Leo was more aware of him. “Two of them, in fact.”

“One,” Leo croaks.

“Hey, McCoy,” Jim says a little louder, trying to draw him out of his semi-conscious state.

“Alone. Sh-she was alone,” Leonard says in an unusually low monotone.

Jim takes a sharp breath before he can stop himself. Something about his voice sounds...eery. He shakes it off. Now isn’t the time to be paranoid. He needs to be as level-headed as possible.

“No, two hits and you’re not alone,” he says slowly, gauging Leo’s reaction. “You hit it at your house, Leo. And here. Can you look at me?”

Jim grits his teeth and shines a penlight in his lover’s eyes. He hated that he was making Leo uncomfortable, but he has to maintain his cover.

“One,” Leonard rasps, averting his face.

Jim firmly grips his chin, keeping him from turning his head while he points the light, waving it back and forth to see his reaction. With a sigh, he turns it off to give him a respite.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asks.

“One,” Leonard whispers again. “One...one...one.”

Jim looks up at Spock, unable to fight the fear that Leonard is visibly cracking, his life as a spy finally catching up to him. Spock’s eyes flicker with acknowledgment. Jim exhales a soft breath and glances back at the man who is in his own world by all appearances.

“Actually, three fingers. But that's okay,” Jim jokes gently. “I know you’re confused.”

“I saw her,” he says.

Jim hesitates. “Who did you see?”

Leonard still tries to hide from the light.

“It’s Geoff,” Jim assures him. “Only Geoff. You’ve nothing to fear from me, Leo.”

Leonard finally opens his eyes. He looks down at himself for a moment but then drags his eyes up to meet Jim’s. He stares intently at him as if trying to place him. It scares Jim half to death. Would the concussion, combined with his grief and this accusation, be his breaking point? Would they even make it to the compound?

“Give yourself a minute,” Jim says to him, worried about the pallor of his skin. “When we get you to the hospital, we’ll take x-rays first, see what’s really going on in that thick skull of yours,” he continues, attempting a joke to pull Leo out of it.

He also says that for Chris’s sake. A subtle reminder that even though Leonard is a prisoner, he still required medical attention. He should allow him that much before going to his compound. And if he didn’t, then in the medical wing of the facility itself.

“Another nightmare,” Leo says mockingly “Imagine that.”

“Look at me, Leo,” he says, willing his voice not to shake, the odd look on his lover’s face frightening him.

“One,” Leonard murmurs again

Jim places his hands on either side of his face. “Leo?” he prods.

He peers into his eyes but Leonard stares straight ahead as if he’d never heard him. As if he’s looking straight through him. Jim blinks several times. He’s never seen him act this way, like a man sinking into a stupor, nothing capable of stopping it. Was it shock—or something else?

“Doctor M’Benga,” Spock says quietly beside him. “I’ve been advised to tell you to do all that is possible to pull McCoy out from this state he is in.”

Jim grimly shakes his head. “He’s not well, Mister Spock. He’s not responding to stimuli and I can’t force him out of this. No one can. His body needs to heal. But...” He hesitates, looking at the syringe on the sterile cloth beside him. “I did find medication that might work temporarily if we gave it to him now.”

“Then by all means, Doctor, proceed,” Chris says.

“He will need a psych consult,” Spock says adamantly.

Chris exhales a labored breath. “Yes, unfortunately. He will. We will do this by the book, Mister Spock. Have no doubt.”

“Here,” Jim murmurs to Leonard, syringe primed. He’d chosen a medication that could possibly increase his awareness. “I found something in this security box of yours that will help. Good thing you were so prepared.”

He administers the medicine but Leo’s face turns green. Jim turns his head, but far too late. Leo vomits all over his shirt. It drips over Jim’s hand and onto the floor.

“Oh, Leo,” Jim says softly.

He doesn’t care that Leo threw up on him. He only wants to make him comfortable. But, other than a pillow and a warm cloth and the cot Chris wouldn’t let Leonard sleep on, there isn’t much comfort here to give him.

Spock’s expression grows strained. “He requires more medical attention than what is available here.”

Jim sighs and nods his head. “For now, we’ll try to make him comfortable. Clean him up. Will you please get me a damp washcloth?” he asks him. “And something to clean the floor with.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Spock says before he swiftly turns for the sink.

Chris leaves them alone while Jim cleans up the prisoner, who is incapable of caring for himself. Jim’s arms alone were holding him up.

“You have to sit up,” he murmurs in Leo’s ear as his head leaned forward, pressing against Jim’s shoulder.. “Your shirt needs to be changed now, Leo.”

“What?” Leonard’s voice crackles like a broken record.

Jim remains quiet as he takes Leo’s shirt off and guides another over his head. It’s a difficult process, Leo nodding off, his awareness mostly nonexistent. Jim is patient with him because he loves him. He guides Leonard’s head to rest on the pillow once he’s clean. He wants to give Leonard a little more time to awaken, but Spock squats in front of Leonard, expression urgent.

“You’ve been in and out of unconsciousness for nearly eight hours,” Spock states.

The blunt truth of the statement seems to awaken Leonard from his murky state.

His eyes widen a fraction. “No shit?” He laughs dryly.

“We cannot leave unless you open the door,” Spock says, eyes somber.

Jim holds his breath, half-expecting Leonard to return to his stupor. But the doctor glances around the room, blinking several times as he takes in every face.

And soon breaks out in a rumbling laugh.

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected and he looks at him in confusion.

“So…” Leonard gasps. “Let me get...this straight.”

Chris’s expression darkens and he turns his attention to Jim. “Did you give him the wrong medication?”

“No,” Jim says quickly, trying to recover from his shock. “But you have to understand, he has been through quite a bit of trauma in the last forty-eight hours.”

Sulu sighs and shakes his head at Chekov. “I’d forgotten about McCoy’s odd sense of humor,” he murmurs to him. Chekov’s eyes are wide as he nods in agreement. “It always seems to come out at the worst possible times, too.”

Jim’s stomach turns in knots at the reminder that he’d been left in the dark about Leonard's involvement in the FBI.

“You need...m-me to unlock the...the door,” Leonard says through rolling, throaty laughter. “The damn d-door.”

“It is not a laughing matter.” Spock says firmly.

Leonard sighs dramatically and points to the door behind them. “It actually is. You’re locked in here with the accused— _me_ —and you need _me_ to get you out. If that isn’t funny, I’ll start drinking creamer with my damn coffee again.”

Jim’s face heats. He averts his gaze, avoiding Chris’s eyes at all costs. Jocelyn forcing Leonard to drink soured milk in public had been one of the worst things she’d ever done to him. Jim had been on the other side of the world, unable to prevent it. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't had nightmares about it.

“My...own door.” Leonard gasps through a laugh, wiping his eyes. “My fucking door.”

“Leo,” Jim says, kneeling beside Spock. “Listen to us. Joanna needs medical attention, and we haven’t been able to help her because the painkiller you gave yourself...actually knocked you out.”

Leonard’s eyes widen. “Eight hours?” he repeats.

Jim nods. “Yeah,” he says roughly.

A determined look on his face, Leonard attempts to rise on his own but can’t even get to his knees. Jim gives him a hand, pulling him up carefully.

Spock holds out a pair of handcuffs as soon as he’s standing.

“Really?” Leonard says with the beginnings of a perfectly curled, snarling lip.

“You are in custody, McCoy,” Chris states, frowning.

“And ya’ll are children needing permission to leave the building,” he drawls back with sarcasm, like he would have before all this shit had happened.

Sulu tries to hide a laugh, but Jim doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. It was good to see a little of old Leo shine through.

Leonard glares at Spock and jerks his hands away once they’re cuffed. “I think I can manage this on my own,” he snaps.

“Very well,” Spock says and backs away.

“Let’s hurry this up, McCoy.” Chris orders, prompting Leonard to shuffle towards the door.

“My own door,” he mutters. “Just so you can lead me to a hanging tree.”

He laughs and Chris’s shoulders visibly tense. When Leonard stands in front of the controls at the door, his apparent memory loss seems to irritate Chris even more.

“Dammit,” Leonard breathes.

Chris clears his throat. “Time's a wasting, McCoy. Anything that happens to Joanna is on you.”

“I’m not being slow on purp…” Leonard’s voice trails off and he sighs. “Ever slam your head into a wall twice in the same day?” he asks sarcastically.

“He has a concussion, Agent Pike,” Jim nearly snaps the reminder.

It draws Leonard’s attention and when he looks back, Jim offers him a small smile. Anything to encourage that memory of his. So that they can leave this place, take down the real mole once and for all.

Leonard stares at him, his gaze sharp and assessing. His eyes narrow, and in that moment, before he turns back around and enters the numbers, Jim knows he sees his eyes are blue.

The next moment is perfectly etched in his memory. Chris reaches out and plunges a needle in Leonard’s neck. Jim’s eyes widen, instinctively knowing what he’s just given him.

“No,” he whispers, inwardly seething.

Chris must have swiped a sedative while he’d been cleaning Leonard up. Leonard staggers back, eyes narrowing on Jim.

“Geoff?” he rasps accusingly.

Jim shakes his head, eyes pleading with him but it’s too late. Leonard falls, unconscious, into Spock’s arms, Spock’s reflexes saving him from crashing to the floor and further injuring his skull.

But Jim’s anger gets the best of him. Who knew if that sedative had been safe, given his concussion.

“That was risky,” he bites out, immediately racing over to Leonard’s side.

“And necessary,” Chris says coldly.

Jim ignores the excuse and focuses completely on his ‘patient.’ Good thing he’d paid attention and excelled in first aid. There isn’t much he could do, but he has to do everything he possibly can to look like he’s an efficient and knowledgeable physician.

“Wait,” he says, tone brusque when Spock bends to pick up Leo. “I need to check his pulse.”

Spock stills and steps away. “Is there anything I can do to assist?”

“No.” Jim doesn’t look up and keeps quiet. The less he talked, the less Chris had to suspect of him.

He takes Leonard’s hand in his own and presses his fingers against his wrist. It doesn't take long—or a genius—to discover his pulse is slower than normal, his skin clammy, and his general appearance sickly.

“I need to get him to a hospital,” he says quietly, placing Leo’s hand on his chest. “As quickly as possible.”

“The compound will do. Let’s go,” Chris orders. “You can monitor him in the car.”

Spock lifts the unconscious Doctor in his arms.

“Be careful with his head,” Jim murmurs, hustling beside him as he carries Leonard out to his car.

Jim opens the door to the back, and Spock carefully places Leonard on the seat.

“I’ll handle it from here, Spock,” Chris states, having followed them out. “But I’ll need your vehicle.”

Spock straightens. “Proper protocol—”

“Not now, Spock,” Chris interrupts. “Doctor M’Benga, please get in the car,” he says crisply without looking at him. “And close the door behind you.”

Jim frowns but obeys. Spock had cracked the window earlier as a precaution. Even if he hadn’t, Jim was skilled at reading lips.

“Leonard is a risk,” Chris interrupts, holding out his hand for Spock’s keys. “I will make sure he’s properly treated in a place that is secure. Shadow will call you when we know Leonard and Joanna are stable.”

Spock’s eyes narrow. “I thought I would be accompanying you.”

“Not this time,” Chris clips, then hesitates.

“Captain?” Spock asks.

“I shouldn't be telling you this, Spock,” he begins, raking his hands through his hair. He looks around, though their surroundings consist only of a bleak sky, a few evergreens, and several uninteresting, dilapidated buildings. With a sigh, he drops his hands and turns back to Spock. “But I see that I have to for you to understand. This operation...is Black Ops.”

Spock’s brows raise. “Captain, if this is classified information, you should not be informing me of anything of this nature.”

Jim bites his lip, fighting a smirk. His penchant for following the rules is well played.

Chris’s eyes flash with irritation. “Yes, it is classified and I shouldn't be telling you this but I am so you know why I am taking McCoy to a location that is off the grid. Special Agent McCoy did not only let our target go—he was working with her.”

Spock blinks several times and glances at Leonard, who is still unconscious and on his side, spread out across the backseat. Head down, Jim acts like he hadn’t heard, but peers at them through his lashes.

“I know it's shocking,” Chris murmurs. “He is your friend. He's been a friend to all of us...to Jim.” His voice cracks and he breathes in shakily. “Especially to Jim. You didn’t hear this, Spock. Not from me. But I have proof of his mental incompetence as well as footage of his traitorous actions. I'll take the case to Director Wisenberg later today, after we secure him within our facility. I can't involve you in this Spock and I'd appreciate your silence on the matter.”

Spock pauses, as if in thought. He tilts his head, gazing at Leonard’s safe house before returning his attention to Chris.

“You will see that he receives medical care?” Spock asks. “I realize it appears that he is mentally unbalanced, his actions and words incriminating him, but he has the right to a lawyer.”

“And he will get all of that, Spock.”

“I will not believe his guilt until I see sufficient evidence presented in court. Until then, I will seek out other suspects,” he says stiffly. “But, I also have no choice but to trust your mere word.”

“Now, please don't see it this way.” Chris frowns. “You do have a choice. And it was you who brought me to Leonard in the first place. You and Shadow.”

“Indeed, I did,” Spock says, drawing back his shoulders. “However, you are my superior. It is this way. I will be awaiting your call,” he finally says with a nod, backing away. “Good luck, Captain.”

Chris offers him a soft smile. “Thank you, Spock.”

Before they leave for the other facility, Spock returns with Joanna-Donna and places her in the front seat. He gently buckles her limp body, guiding her head to lean back against the seat. He gives her more care and concern than Chris likes. The older man anxiously taps his fingers along the wheel as he sits, as if he owns not only this mission, but Spock’s damn car, too.

Jim has always thought of Joanna as his niece, but so has Spock. In a way, she could still be that niece. An older, stronger, smarter niece—who would have her own set of hurts to deal with after the shitstorm was over.

He catches Spock's eye before Pike backs the car onto the street. His expression remains neutral. So does Jim’s. Soon, he thinks, soon they will no longer be under this man’s thumb. He’ll be under Jim’s. And Chris wi rue the day he’d ever laid a finger on Leo’s head.

Once on the road, Chris occasionally looks in the mirror at them. When he is distracted by the freeway, Jim brushes Leonard’s hair from his forehead. He allows his fingers to linger on his clammy skin but pulls them away almost too late, Chris's eyes snapping to meet his in the mirror.

His heart catches in his throat every time Leonard moans in his sleep, his face disturbingly even paler than before.

He just knows in his gut that something is wrong.

 

oOo

 

He's right.

But when they first arrive at the compound, they meet Shadow at the front door.

She doesn’t smile, her eyes still following the trail of people wasting no time in taking Leonard and Joanna on stretchers to the medical wing. Her own orders.

Jim wants to follow, but Chris grasps his arm, holding him back. “Not so fast, Doctor M’Benga. We have a few things to discuss.”

Jim sighs heavily to show his displeasure. His time with Leonard is already limited. He wouldn’t be able to speak with him until after Shadow had accessed the computers and they were all leaving this hellhole. He simply can't be the Geoff that treats Leonard in the medical wing. He decides it’s a good thing, as long as Imposter Geoff actually knows medicine like the real Geoff.

“Yes, we do. I’ll need at least one nurse to assist me,” Jim says evenly to Chris, giving time for Shadow to steal away to the back door.

Two guards man that particular exit, and a security camera. Shadow was confident she’d be able to manipulate them into thinking there was an emergency in the building, after she disabled the camera. At her insistence, they’d briefly abandon their post with the promise from Shadow that she would stand by the door. In the meantime, Geoff would slip inside, disguised as the delivery man that frequented the place each week. It seems too predictable, too cliche, but he agrees it’s only way to get Imposter Geoff inside.

While Jim waits for Chris to answer, three agents surround them. Men that he assumes have been ordered to shoot him on the spot if he breathed funny.

Shadow had shown him the blueprint to the SCIF before they’d left for Sallough City. The inter-connected rooms would conveniently allow Jim to trade places with ‘Geoff’ with ease. He’d been shocked to learn that Chris had set aside what seemed to be an excessive amount of space for medical purposes, but Shadow’s expression had closed when he’d asked about it. He’d pressed her more, and received an answer he didn’t want to hear.

Chris’s team of scientists had experimented with #381, tampering with it in its earlier days. He was the reason agents had suffered horrible side effects. He’d also tampered with dosages that were sent out to field offices, disguising the project as a Black Ops operation that was correcting a serious breach in security.

But that wasn't the only experimentation that had taken place in this facility. Shadow refused to give him more information, instead leaving it to Jim’s imagination. He set the mystery aside for now. He’s facing more than enough challenges as it is. But it nags him. They’ve been so focused on Jocelyn, they’ve ignored what has been in front of them this entire time. The _real_ problem.

A problem he can't even try to fix until they’d arrested Chris and rescued Leo.

Part of Jim is concerned they don't have enough help to pull this off. He wishes Chris had allowed Spock to come to the compound, too, but he'd almost changed his mind about Shadow at the last minute. Thankfully, Number One had pleaded her case as an agent, not his wife, sending Chris a clear message that her involvement with Leonard in the past as his mentor would help Chris’s case against him, since she knew Leo’s secrets, the way he worked. Chris agreed.

“You can have two,” Chris says, rubbing his face. “And four security guards.”

Jim shakes his head. “The guards won’t be necessary.”

How could Shadow make the exchange with the other Geoff if there are four fucking guards? Even three will be too many.

“Oh, it is completely necessary,” Chris replies smoothly.

“I can’t treat Leonard if they’re in the way and looking over my shoulder,” Jim argues. “Besides, he’s restrained. He can’t hurt me. He may have bleeding on the brain.”

He doesn’t know if the latter was the case, but it sounds possible. He needs some reason that would convince Chris to give them more time.

Chris inspects him like a bug to be squashed. A limb that needed cut from a tree. An inconvenience that he could do without.

It cuts Jim to the quick. He somehow maintains steady breaths, trying to keep a firm hold on the truth. That this man is not the man who’d loved him. He’s someone else entirely, and Jim is no longer under his hold. And in this disguise, Jim holds the power.

“There’s only one operable door,” Chris says condescendingly, as if talking to a child. “They’ll remain outside. No one enters or leaves until I return.”

“Fair enough,” Jim says, nodding.

Chris jerks his head to the door of the medical wing. “I’ll give you three hours to find out what’s wrong with him and from there I’ll determine if he receives additional medical care before proceeding.”

Jim opens his mouth to protest but Chris interrupts him.

“Doctor,” he says sharply. “May I remind you that I’m providing you with two nurses. Chapel and Bentley. They’re two of the best in the field. May I also remind you that you tried to hurt me at the hospital.”

Jim frowns. “You held a knife at my throat,” he says defensively, recalling what Geoff had explained.

“You showed signs of aggression and at that point I was unarmed,” Chris counters. “I’d hate to think what would happen if I file an official complaint.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jim asks as if in disbelief.

Chris closes the distance between them, face red and mere few inches away. Jim feels the warm breath on his cheek and swallows harshly.

“It’s your choice, Doctor M’Benga,” Chris says, stressing each word. “Follow my orders or I will file a complaint.”

Jim’s throat clogs with emotion. He can’t believe this is his father’s killer and lover’s accuser. He can’t comprehend the mountain of lies, the depth of manipulation, the hurt Chris has inflicted on him much of his life. He can’t comprehend who he’s become, believing in this man’s ideals and believing in his love. Or who Leonard’s become, because of Chris’s twisted actions.

He doesn’t want to comprehend it and once more compartmentalizes this man with the others who’d used him and other innocent people in the past.

Jim straightens his spine, staring straight into his eyes. “I’d like to treat my patient, now, if you don't mind. Before you decide what to do with him.”

Triumph flickers in Chris’s eyes. “A very reasonable choice, Doctor.

Chris turns and walks away, no doubt wanting to find Shadow. Jim locks himself in place, refusing to move an inch.

“Agent Pike,” he calls out.

Chris sighs and pivots on his heel. “Doctor M’Benga, you are wasting time with your questions.”

Jim pauses as if in thought. The truth was, he’d waste whatever time he had to in order to help Shadow.

“I’d always thought something was off with McCoy,” he says, then purposefully stumbles over his next words. “And if...if he’s…”

“He is,” Chris says, inclining his head. “And now your hospital is safe.”

Jim nods quietly and turns, this time walking away before Chris. He senses those eyes boring into his back like they had before. He doesn't like the attention, especially since he isn’t wearing his contacts, but it gives Shadow even more time to accomplish her task.

He walks with his chin high to the room adjacent to the surgical room and prepares to wash his hands before he sees his “patients.” Not a minute later, the other Geoffrey, dressed identically, swiftly enters through the opposite door.

Jim looks up in surprise. “The guards?”

Geoff doesn’t look at Jim but goes straight for the sink. Standing next to Jim, he applies soap and lathers his hands and arms.

“Unfortunately, they’re both in the other room, in the grips of nausea. Something they ate. The hallway is clear, Jim,” he says, tone brusque. “You can go. Shadow will meet you at the end of the corridor and take you to her room.”

Jim arches a brow and quickly rinses the suds off his hands. As he dries his hands, he notices the two guns he himself had suggested Shadow bring into the facility are strapped to Geoff’s waist.

He doesn’t know how Imposter Geoff plans to take them into the surgery. But he does. It was his own plan.

“The guns,” he begins.

Geoff frowns, scrubbing his arms like he was tearing off a layer of skin. “Shadow told me.”

“Let me tell you again,” Jim stresses, wanting no mistakes made. “Put them inside a flimsy cast around Leo’s leg, whether or not there’s something wrong with it. When I come to get him, we’ll need those guns.”

“Oh, there is something wrong, alright,” Geoff mumbles.

Jim inhales sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“Chapel informed me—”

“Chapel?” Jim asks.

“She’s one of us,” Geoff clips.

Jim blinks. “And Shadow knew about that?”

“She knows now,” Geoff mutters. “Chapel said it was a close call. It’d almost nicked an artery.” Geoff finally looks up at Jim. “McCoy needs surgery...more than Joanna does.”

Jim would deny with every fiber of his being that the room was tilting. “His head?” Jim asks hoarsely.

Geoffrey’s mouth tightens as he begins rinsing his hands. “You should leave. You don’t have much time before Chris comes poking his nose around here.” He pauses, eyeing him carefully. “I know you don’t have the energy to be on your feet much longer.”

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“You need to rest, let the drug circulate out of your system. I should’ve thought to ask Shadow to set you up with an IV for electrolytes in her room,” Geoff sighs. “I’ll try to come up with something.”

“So you really are a doctor.”

Geoff’s expression closes. He picks up a towel and dries his hands. Jim starts counting the number of times the man’s jaw clenches. So far, the number was three in the minute they’d been talking.

“You need to get out of here now, Jim,” Geoff stresses, looking sideways at him. “Or do you not notice the way your body is swaying?”

He had. But it’s as if he’s on autopilot. “Leo’s head?” Jim deflects.

“Go, Jim,” Geoff orders quietly. “Before someone comes in, sees double, and knows they’re not tripping.”

Jim can’t understand why this man is so adamant about leaving him in the dark—and pushing him out the door without answering a few simple questions. “Just...tell me. Please.”

“You were dead, what...twenty-four hours ago?” Geoff says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe,” Jim says just as casually. Now standing almost shoulder to shoulder, he sees it. And he berates himself for missing it before. They were the same height. The same build. Maybe that was why Chris had never caught on they'd switched. “Maybe more.”

“One day. Two days. Doesn’t matter. You need a week to recover. At least.” Geoff says pointedly. “I’m not explaining anything to you, Captain, until you’ve gotten more sleep.”

“And what do I call you?” Jim asks.

Geoff’s face hardens like rock, his expression sharp, leaving no room for softness. Jim almost takes a step back, but then the other man glances down at his hands, as if he were checking to be sure they were clean and dry.

“You call me nothing,” Geoff grits. He averts his eyes, but not before Jim catches the sheen coating them. “I’m a man with no name. No face. No identity. Just lucky enough to find a man—the real man who worked next to McCoy—generous enough to share his face with me. I'm no one to you, Jim.”

Jim leaves, a chill running down his spine his entire walk through the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, review? I'm so enjoying your thoughts! Did I mention that the angst definitely isn't over yet? 
> 
> Eek!
> 
> I'll update again in a couple days with more from Jim's POV.


	15. Not the Man I Used to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Only a few notes. This chapter begins shortly after where the last one left off, and spans almost two days. It also became a mammoth-sized chapter so I split it into two. I'll be posting the next part soon. 
> 
> Junker5 and Diamondblue4 - thank you for betaing this chapter and for the encouraging words. *HUGS* You both are wonderful!
> 
> Things are about to intensify. :) Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Jim has never been one to like cramped quarters for hours on end. He’s too high strung and fidgety. Yet his job demands things like this from him more often than he likes. It’s inevitable. So he tolerates it. Thanks to Spock, he’s finally perfected a way to block his anxiety—meditation.

But meditation or not, ten hours in Shadow's research room? Alone? Not knowing how Leo is doing? Or Joanna? He’s losing his fucking mind.

Then he thinks of why he’s here in the first place. Of Leonard. And Spain. Soured milk. The bathroom Leo had been forced to stay in for more than twelve hours.

When he thinks of those things, his claustrophobia all but melts away. His purpose has never been clearer. He vows that no one will be capable of putting blinders on him ever again. He’s gained various skills over the years. Some good, some bad, some evil. Shoving most of them in the figurative closet of his past when he’d joined up with the FBI. He’d wanted to prove that he was a good man. Like his father had been. Like Pike.

He’s never been...just him. It’s about time that he was.

Jim removes the voice activator from a flap under the mask at the base of his throat. He puts it on the coffee table and slouches down on the couch because damn it, Shadow and Imposter Geoff are right. He needs to rest. His eyes burn, one of the reasons he hates the damn contacts. He has them on now, just in case Shadow decides to come in and chide him for his decision. Though, she’d do the same thing upon seeing he’d removed the voice activator.

The room is purportedly void of surveillance, but he’d double checked for bugs, anyway, finding none. He’s amazed Chris trusts her this much. If she’d made a deal with Leo for repayment for helping him after the crash, then Jim has to assume that she’d also made a deal with Chris.

He spends the first hour alone in Shadow’s research room worrying about that as well as Leo. He keeps a gun close in case he has any unwelcome visitors. He plays cards, fumbles through the games of Solitaire because he removes his gloves to keep them tear free. His fingers are shit, and so is his ability to pour himself coffee. He drinks from the pitcher, instead. He sleeps on the couch for ninety minutes, checks his makeup and wig, paces the room, sleeps again...until she returns with the Imposter Geoff hours later.

She closes the door behind them and looks at Jim in concern. “You need to sleep.”

His brows raise. “I appreciate the motherly concern, but there are bigger things to worry about than some shut eye,” he says in his real voice.

His real voice is thin.

“This is a bigger thing, Jim.” She purses her lips. “I shouldn't have brought you here.”

“There wasn't another option.”

She sighs. Geoff’s eyes flicker over her like she's one of his patients. Concerned but maybe...a bit more.

“You look like hell even with the mask,” she says. “Did you sleep?”

“I did,” Jim says.

Her eyes say she doesn’t believe him. “Not enough but we don't have time for you to rest more. Geoffrey wants you to take these,” she says, handing him two pills. “It'll keep your energy up for a short time, Jim.”

He wants to ask with thick sarcasm why “Geoffrey” doesn't give them to him himself since he’s standing right in front of him, too, but bites his tongue. He forgets he’d taken off the gloves and attempts to take the pills from her. His fingers fumble and the pills drop on the floor.

“Dammit,” he says, wincing.

He leans over to retrieve the pills but Shadow is quicker. She nimbly picks them up and frowns at him.

“Palm out,” she orders, like a mother would.

He sheepishly holds his right palm out and she drops them in his hand.

“Can you manage putting them in your mouth?” she asks patiently, handing him a glass of water.

He thinks he can possibly manage, though he has no patience for his handicap.

He scowls. “Yes.”

He’s about try when the other Geoff leans a shoulder against the far wall and opens the file in his hands. Head down, he's immersed in those papers, essentially ignoring both Jim and Shadow. It's rude, considering he really hasn’t made the effort to be more amicable.

Jim is tempted to make a face at him.

He doesn’t.

The agent probably has eyes on the sides of his head.

He smashes the palm of his hand against his mouth, opening his lips to allow the pills to slide onto his tongue. It’s awkward, but he manages. He swallows the pills down and as much water as he can in three gulps.

“How’s Jo? And Leo?” he asks Shadow, watching Geoff warily from the corner of his eye.

Shadow sits down on the couch beside him. He’s grateful for the company after spending all those hours alone. Holding his breath. Twiddling his thumbs. He was on his own, not that he was left without the basic comforts. On the contrary. Strangely enough, Chris had given Shadow a room with all the amenities.

“He’s not going to bite you,” she says softly, giving him a knowing look.

“What?” Jim says with a frown, knowing exactly what she means.

“Geoff, he’s not going to hurt you,” she says in a whisper, leaning forward. She clasps Jim’s knee. “That’s just who he is, Jim. Guarded.”

“And you trust him. A guarded man,” Jim says.

He doesn’t care if he hears him.

“He’ll warm up to you,” she says, leaning back on the couch. She cocks her head. “I’m positive.”

“Well, it’s not necessary,” Jim says, annoyed. “I have to say, I don’t need anyone warming up to me at the moment.”

He ends his sentence with a snarl he doesn’t mean to share.

Shadow withdraws her hand. “If I tell you I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he snaps.

He hates it when that response grabs Geoff’s attention. The man’s eyes widen, and true concern floods them like he has a fucking right to be concerned.

It’s too much to see. It’s too much to hear. He’s always despised pity. Pike had never shown him that. Pike had been a bastard liar.

“Don’t,” he repeats shakily.

His breath comes out with a woosh, and he closes his eyes. He tries to pinch the bridge of his nose, but can’t tell what the hell he’s doing.

“Fuck,” he whispers, dropping his hand to his lap.

He hopes she doesn’t touch his knee like before, hopes that Geoff went back to minding his own damn business. He wants to be alone now.

But then Shadow throws him a curveball.

“I’d like to take you to see Leonard. Chris is sleeping. I slipped him something in his drink, so he’ll be out. It won’t be a problem since Nurse Chapel is the nurse on duty.” She pauses. “Do you think you can handle it?”

He’s up on his feet before she has to ask twice, grabbing the voice activator from the coffee table.

“I take that as a yes,” she says softly.

 

oOo

 

While Shadow guards the door, Jim stares at the unconscious form on the bed. Other than dead bodies, he’s never seen anyone so pale before. Leonard appears worn and small in the bed, though he’s far from weak. He’s the strongest man Jim knows but his vulnerability is greater than ever. His hair is partially shaven, burr holes having been drilled into his skull to reduce the brain swelling. The two-inch bald spot on his head will grow back later, but the hair’s absence and IV drip clue Jim that Leo’s condition is more serious than he’d first thought. The cast is also in place, the guns safely hidden. Jim prays he doesn’t really need the cast. It would be enough just to free him from the bed and the restraints.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” she says, breaking his reverie.

Nurse Chapel is a fixture at the opposite side of Leonard’s bed, sitting down in a chair and looking over her computer.

“It was better for us to wait before explaining his diagnosis,” Shadow says apologetically. “The swelling is serious. Geoff and Christine will take turns monitoring it around the clock.”

He spares a glance back at her. “And Chris is just...allowing you to treat him like this?” he asks, holding his breath.

“Oh,” her mouth twitches. “Christine was quite convincing. Not to mention that Geoff was in a sour mood. He can be intimidating.”

Jim can’t help himself and rolls his eyes at the last part.

“He likes you, Jim,” she murmurs. “I think that’s why he’s grumpier. He usually doesn’t like...anyone.”

“Does he like you?” he asks innocently.

She grows quiet, perhaps considering how Geoff had looked at her in the other room. Because now that Jim thinks about it, it hadn't been the look of a doctor. Or of a friend. It had been the look of a man who loves.

“Hooking up with a grump isn’t that bad,” Jim offers, drawing closer to Leonard’s side. He grasps his hand, squeezing it.

He thinks he hears her smile behind him.

“Just wait until you both have your freedom,” she says, coming beside him.

Her eyes travel the length of Leonard’s body, as if considering all the facets of Leonard Horatio McCoy, just like Jim was doing.

“He’ll be a different man,” she whispers. “One that smiles in the morning. Holds your hand without fear. Without guilt.”

Jim glances sideways at her. “Are you talking about Leo—or him?”

“We better go,” she murmurs, avoiding the question. She steps back. “You need to rest. So does Leonard. Joanna is doing well, sleeping in another room.”

He bends down and kisses Leonard’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, Leo,” he whispers to him. “And you’ll be free from this. I promise.”

He squeezes Leo’s hand in a reluctant goodbye. The monitor instantly spikes. Jim freezes.

“What did I do?” he whispers anxiously.

Christine glances up from her work, her eyes kind. “Sometime the subconscious works that way, Jim. I’m not surprised it happened, given that you’re the safest thing in his life.”

He can’t leave now.

Shadow gently grasps his upper arm. “Jim…”

His hand falls away from Leo’s. His heart cracks as he turns his back on him and leaves. He’s on autopilot again, grateful for Shadow’s presence as they walk back to her room. She can’t hold on to him as they pass several guards, the gesture would be too familiar, but he makes it back without tripping over his feet.

“I can’t just go to sleep,” Jim protests once they’re in her room.

“Yes, you can.” She guides him toward the bed, which is a pull out sofa.

He pries her fingers from his arm.

“I think I’ll eat, instead,” he says, relieved he'd freed his arm from her grasp. “Maybe try to practice holding a pencil with two dead fingers.”

He forgets about Geoff, which is a mistake. The other man approaches with a syringe. Jim shoots him a dark look. The menacing bastard.

“I won’t do to you what Pike did to Leonard,” Geoff says slowly. “But I will if you don’t cooperate. You’re not in any shape to perform the duties that will be required of you in a day or so, when Leonard is awake, the swelling down.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“Jim,” Geoff says.

They stare at each other, neither giving in.

It’s a standoff.

Shadow sighs. “Look at the two of you. You are both boys. Children. Not men.”

Jim finally shakes his head. “You know I won’t be able to sleep, not...like this.”

“I know,” Geoff agrees, far too simply and easily.

Jim bites back a comment that he doesn’t know him at all. Not only was Imposter Geoff grumpy. He was a know-it-all. A bit on the cocky side, too.

“That’s why I’m going to give you a sedative with your permission, Jim,” he continues. “You should get eight hours on this, given your medical history.”

“I can’t be sedated—”

“Yes, you can,” he says evenly as he approaches. “And you will. It’s not only logical in this situation, Jim, but necessary. And you know it. You are not a robot. You are a human, a man being stretched to his limits both physically and emotionally.”

Jim backs up, feeling like a kid being scolded by his father. The backs of his knees hit the bed. Geoff is right in front of him. He sees he won't win this one and raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Okay.”

If this man knows his medical history, does he know everything else?

“Give me a...a m-minute,” he asks, cotton filling his mouth. “I don’t like...being...sedated.”

Geoff’s expression strangely softens.

Jim draws a shaky breath, wipes away the sweat along his brow. He’d do anything for Leonard, but he has to admit that being sedated pushes the limit. He climbs ungracefully on the bed, fully disguised and clothed, wearing even his shoes. Like he used to do when his mom was away and Frank was in the house. Like he did when on rotation. Like he did when he was too damn impatient to see Leo.

But sedation...he wants no part of it.

He closes his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose, his heart still racing. He unconsciously rubs his chest. He wills himself to calm down. It doesn’t help much, butterflies beating their wings inside his rib cage no matter how slowly he breathed. He keeps rubbing his chest, not knowing he does so.

The needle looms ahead. He swallows the lump in his throat. But it hurts. His mouth is like sandpaper, the lump lodging in his throat the same way worry for Leo settles in his stomach. Dreadfully. Uncomfortably. Making him physically ill.

He should’ve had more water. He isn't purposefully stalling, but he needs something to drink.

“Water,” he croaks. “I…need to get some water.”

“Hold on, Jim,” Shadow says. “I’ll bring it to you.”

Ironically, now that he was on his bed, he hates the thought of sitting up again, even to drink what he desperately needs. He lifts himself up on his elbows, anyway. It’s a bad idea. The room spins and he teeters towards the edge of the bed.

Hands instantly grip his shoulders, stopping him from falling.

“Easy there,” Geoff says, firmly supporting him to a seated position. “Imbalance is one sure sign you didn’t sleep enough.”

Jim kneads his forehead, averting his gaze. It’s humiliating to have his weaknesses laid bare to a stranger. No, not a stranger. A friend. To Leo, at least. Maybe.

“Here,” Shadow says, handing him the glass of water.

He drinks it all, the need to quench his throat more important than stalling for time. He's still as thirsty as hell, but the cool water takes the edge off. With Geoff’s help, he sinks into his pillow. He doesn't want to give up the glass but Shadow takes it from him.

“I know this is hard for you, Jim, but you need to sleep,” she whispers.

Unexpectedly, she reaches over and lightly strokes his forehead. The repetitive motion is calming and addictive. He silently takes back what he said earlier. He likes this motherly concern.

“Think of Leonard,” she continues. “When he’s happy. When he’s with you.”

He closes his eyes and and tries to do what she suggests because nothing else was working. He imagines Leonard’s warm, healthy body behind him, his arms around Jim’s chest. Spooning Jim made Leonard happy. Long mornings in bed made Leonard happy. Being the dominant partner made him happy.

Jim’s index finger twitches once, the rest of his body perfectly still.

It’s no secret it’s what Jim likes, too. Leonard, the dominant partner. Jim, the submissive. He more than likes it, and that favoritism stems from his shitty childhood. Never being properly cared for. Never having someone to parent him the way he should’ve been parented. Always being tossed from one foster home to the next. Wanting to be in control and finding a way to being in control through working as an agent. But when the door is closed and his heart is open to Leo, being submissive is exactly what Jim wants to be, too.

One doesn’t need a psychology degree to figure it out.

Not that Leonard has ever judged him for it. Neither has Jim judged Leonard. They are perfectly co-dependent that way. Both emotionally scarred and linked together because of it. Maybe now more than ever. He can’t wait to be in bed with him, again, and not just for sex. He’ll find that favorite brand of cigar Leo likes. Set a box of them on his nightstand, so Leo is sure to see it before he takes command and orders Jim on the bed, clothes off. Leo will light the cigar. Jim will balk and suggest he find something else to do that won’t kill him, instead.

Leo would set it aside in a minute to appease him. Because he loves Jim.

Jim smiles to himself. He could smell the cigar, see the quirk of Leonard’s brow and the smile that comes when Jim shows how much he cares about his health. It clears the cloud of anxiety hanging over his head, and a picture of Leonard’s beautiful face emerges.

Shadow hums in her throat. “You smiled a little, Jim. Is one particular doctor with hazel eyes on your mind?”

He thinks he blushes.

She gives a small laugh. “Keep thinking what you’re thinking. It's working.”

Jim sighs and sinks into the bed, almost weightless.

“Ready?” Geoff asks, interrupting the perfect moment, of course.

Jim is surprised that the man has given him a minute at all. He nods without opening his eyes.

“As I’ll ever be,” he rasps.

Geoff’s gently grasps his arm. Jim knows it coming but tenses, anyway, from his shoulders down to his hands. He doesn’t know about his fingers. They’re useless. Maybe he was useless. He wasn’t as strong as he’d thought. Maybe Pike had been right to convince him to turn in his badge.

“Relax, Captain,” Geoff murmurs. “I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t in your best interest. You’re not invincible though you think you should be.”

He does relax, or at least tries. He startles again when Geoff pulls down Jim’s glove, trying to stop him.

“Jim, I’ll put it back on when I’m done,” he explains gently.

Jim nods.

Was this Geoff warming up to him, like Shadow had said he would?

The inevitable pinch is just as bad as he fears, bringing back a flood of memories that overwhelm the good ones he’d had with Leonard.

He jerks, cursing himself for being so damn twisty.

Geoff has quick reflexes and holds him down. “Shh, Jim,” he murmurs. “Don’t fight it.”

He shakes his head. He used to always fight. Then he’d stopped, because of Pike. Then he started again, because of Pike. Now...he can't see it ever ending.

“I’ll watch over him, Jim. I promise.”

With that, he welcomes the sleep that comes.

 

oOo

 

Time is a blur after he awakens.

While he eats, Shadow briefs him. She promotes him to supervisor so that even Leonard has to obey his orders. He can hardly wrap his mind around this fact before Imposter Geoff shows up to give Jim two medications to give Leonard later. Jim is grateful for the surgeon’s assistance, but he ignores him as much as possible until he leaves. Other than that, he...hides. Which is what he was currently doing, sitting in her closet, back to the wall with his knees drawn to his chest while Chris speaks with Shadow.

He thinks of Geoff treating Leonard, of the last prognosis which was better than the previous one, an hour ago. Leo will soon awaken. Maybe even this morning. Once he was awake, they could begin the extraction. Shadow would finally get to the computers, as long as Jim takes down Chris.

And he has no doubt in his mind that he will.

It’s early, and he still hasn’t managed to pour himself his own coffee. It doesn't matter now. He’s stuck in a dark closet.

He doesn’t learn anything new as he listens to Chris and Shadow discusses the accusations against Leonard. Only that Chris is intimidated of his own wife and the power she holds. Which explains why he’s playing the power card now.

“Leonard stays here,” Chris states.

Jim can just imagine his overconfidence, the calm mask fixed in place.

“So do I,” Shadow replies.

Chris sighs. “I’m not sure—”

“I stay here, with Geoffrey M’Benga,” she interrupts. She’s tough as nails, not backing down after he states his demands. “At the least, to make sure you don’t kill him. Leonard owes me.”

There’s a pause. “Thought you had that taken care of a long time ago.”

“Now where would be the fun in that?” she scoffs.

“He would have been useful for the series of missions we handled in ‘11.”

“I can't just use him for anything, Chris,” she snaps. “You know as well as I do that at that time, he was in too deep with Jocelyn.”

“You had time, Number One,” Pike says.

“I had other responsibilities, not just McCoy. But now I intend to collect.”

“Fine. I’d like to see what you have in store. You never explained after you took my files.”

“No, I never did, did I?” she asks in a velvety voice. “Maybe I’ll let you have a front row seat, or at least an ear piece to hear it play out.”

Pike chuckles. “You’re such a tease.”

Jim rolls his eyes, now hearing what has to be an impromptu make-out session. Who knows how far Shadow will take it. Far enough to convince Pike she was still in love. With a silent groan, Jim rests his head against the wall and blocks out the rest.

As he waits for Shadow to end the game she was playing, he doesn’t know if he should be relieved or not.

_Leonard owes me._

It’s the truth that keeps them with the compound, Chris sounding morbidly curious in her cryptic answer.

_I intend to collect._

It’s the dark cloud hanging over him that just refuses to leave.

 

oOo

 

It’s also on his mind as he tackles Wilson to the floor and Leonard has Pike in a chokehold.

He begrudgingly admits to himself that Geoff had done the best thing sedating him earlier. Without that sleep, he probably wouldn’t have the energy or the wherewithal to take down the agent. He tightens the ropes around Wilson’s wrists and springs to his feet. He reminds himself that this is just one more step closer to getting Leonard out of here. He’s determined to flee with him before they meet up with Shadow outside the compound.

His job was to take down Pike and extract Leonard. And he’d do his job. Only he’d extract Leonard before anyone else could use him. Or talk to him. Hell, even smile at him if they were so inclined.

He trusts her with his life. But not with Leo’s. She’d already manipulated them into this. No matter how beneficial this mission actually is, it doesn’t make up for what he’s doing to Leonard. What they were all doing to him.

_I intend to collect._

He’s not going to let her collect anything from Leo. Not on his watch.

Leonard keeps Chris under his proverbial thumb, bleeding from the scalpel and squirming under his arm. When he sees Wilson on the floor, he does a double take and stares at Jim in disbelief.

Jim shrugs. “I took karate,” he deflects with a humor he often used in the field.

Leonard’s voice remains impassive, obviously not amused. “Grab one of the scalpels and watch the door,” he says. “With any luck, no one heard him yell.”

Jim plays dumb. Chris is listening. “But...your legs. Don’t you want...the restraints off?”

“Get them out of the restraints and guard the damn door then,” Leo orders him with a growl.

Jim acts surprised and nods. “Right.”

“Why did you tamper with #381?” Leonard demands of Chris.

“Too smart for his...own...good.”

“Why?” Leonard hisses.

Chris gives a weak laugh. “Like I’d...t-tell...you.”

“I could strangle you now, old man.” Leonard leans over him. “But I won't,” he snarls.

“She w-won’t...” Chris chokes out. “Make i-it, McCoy.”

“You don’t know her,” he sneers.

“You...won’t m-make it, e-either.” Chris is wheezing now, dangerously close to passing out.

Jim remains by the door, warily watching the exchange from afar but ready to jump in at a moment’s notice if Leonard needed help.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Leonard practically spits in Chris’s ear.

Chris’s lips curve into a snarl. “Then...y-you’re a sorry sight to-b-behold.”

“My guess is that you naively thought I was out of commission already, laid up in bed. Joanna, too. Haven’t you figured out by now I don't work that way?”

“You w-wasted f-five years of your l-life, McCoy,” Chris rasps.

“I don’t quite see it that way,” Leonard bites out.

“She’s g-gone,” Chris counters, wheezing.

Leonard eyes flash. “Not my cause, anymore, old man.”

Chris’s voice weakens more. “D-don’t b-believe you. Y-you have had r-revenge on...your mind...forever, Mc-c-Coy.”

“Who says I’m done with revenge? What I’m interested in is right here,” Leo’s voice tempers into a cool drawl. “Making sure you pay for taking him from me.”

Chris starts to chuckle but Leonard squeezes the man’s neck. It cuts off his air, the laugh shortening.

He wheezes again. “You...won’t...get...out...of here...ali…”

Chris grows limp. Leonard relaxes his own body, causing Chris’s body to slide off the bed like a rag doll.

“Ouch,” Jim says, wincing.

Leonard stares up at the ceiling. “Geoff,” he says hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Jim says, coming beside him.

Leonard takes a breath and stares right at him, into his blue eyes.“I don’t know why you’re helping us, but you’re in more danger than I am. I have to get you out of here. But, first,” he says, trying to pull himself up. “I need you to find a saw.”

“Don’t think that’s going to happen,” he says slowly.

He isn't proud of the fact he’s hurt Leonard for the sake of the mission. He feels even worse giving Leonard something he didn’t ask for or expect. Even if it's to make sure he gets out of here alive.

“What do you mean?” Leonard frowns, his eyes sharp.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jim states, coming closer.

Leonard is tough but he’s only human. He’s slower than usual. Small miracle, for Jim sinks the needle into his neck before he could stop him.

“Fuck,” Leonard hisses, slapping a hand on his neck. “Dammit, what did you do?” his voice rings out sharply.

He glares angrily at Jim.

“I'm very sorry,” Jim says, almost in a whisper. “But it was necessary.”

Leonard’s eyes widen. “What is…” He stops as his muscles involuntarily spasm, momentarily breathless. “What did you give me? I can't stay. I can't...I have to move.”

His expression morphs from confusion to fear and back to confusion. His gaze flits about the room, his attention span obviously short, his eyes not taking in his surroundings fast enough. Sweat already pours off his face. He rubs his chest, like he was trying to calm his racing heart.

“Steroid? Adrenalin?” he asks, swallowing.

Leonard doesn't wait for an answer and tries to get off the bed by himself.

Jim pushes him back down. “Hold still, McCoy,” he commands.

He looks up at him with a shocked expression. “What did…?” He stops, breaths coming in gasps.

Jim lets go of one arm and silently shines a light in his eyes. Leonard flinches.

“Hold still,” he orders gently, tamping down his worry so he could focus on his job. “Give me a second. I need to make sure you’re okay. That's what he told me to do.”

“Let me guess,” Leonard rasps. “My pupils are blown.”

He absently nods, more concerned about his pulse than the enlarged pupils. But Leonard doesn’t notice Jim trying to take his vitals and shifts his body towards the edge of the bed

“I need to get off his bed,” he says with a shake of his head. “I need…”

Jim suppresses a sigh. “Hold your horses, McCoy,” he orders, pushing against his chest a second time. “Lie down.”

“The hell I will. Joanna—”

Jim stares hard at him. “Joanna will be out of this building before we are if all goes according to plan. Be still, Leo,” he says through clenched teeth.

But he still struggles, wasting precious time as he did so.

This has to stop. Leonard has to stop fighting him.

He thinks for a few seconds, then it comes to him. He knows just what to do to make Leonard listen to every damn thing he has to say.

He removes his voice activator.

“I’m going to get the cast off,” he says.

His real voice is the answer. Leonard blinks at him. Refocuses his attention on Jim, just like he’d wanted him to.

Leonard reaches out to touch him but Jim spins on his heels before he makes contact. They can't discuss it now, but Leonard should realize who he was on his own soon enough. He begins tearing the cast in two, ignoring his inquisitive look.

“So, you work out?” Leonard asks flatly.

Jim snorts. “Fake cast,” he mumbles, not looking up from his task.. “But, um...yeah. I workout a lot.”

Leonard collapses on the bed. “Agh,” he groans.

Worried, Jim glances up and sees him twisting the sheets in his hand. He winces, hating that he’s played a part in hurting him.

“I'm sorry, Leo. That drug is giving you the adrenalin that you'll need to get out of here, but it does heighten your sensitivity to pain,” Jim says quietly before looking back down. “A bad trade-off, I know.” Guilt flooding him, he bites his lip and continues. “Almost see them.”

Leonard’s eyes clench shut. “What? What are...you doing?”

The cast isn’t as flimsy as he thought it would be but it finally falls apart. Jim is relieved to see the guns nestled beside Leo’s injured leg, just as he’d asked Geoff.

“Take a look for yourself,” he says with pride.

Leonard stares down at himself, eyes widening. “You...hid guns in my cast? During surgery? What the ever lovin’—”

Jim can’t help but grin. “I might not know how to heal your leg, but I do know how to improvise.”

Leonard’s face freezes. “I hit my head harder than I thought,” he whispers.

Jim suppresses his anxiety and swiftly looks Leonard up and down, checking for another injury he wasn’t aware of. There shouldn't be one. There can’t be one. A concussion and bum leg was enough to deal with in this situation.

“What? What else is wrong?” he asks hastily when Leonard doesn’t answer. According to Geoff, Leo should be well enough to manage walking out the door, as long as he wasn’t injured more. “Where are you hurting? He told me that even though your injuries are serious, we’d be able to get you out of here.”

Leonard is completely still and silent, staring at him with a broken expression.

Jim’s heart pounds in his ears like a constant drum. This is what they’d been afraid of. Leonard cracking. Fucking losing it.

If this is the moment they’d all feared, and Leonard is succumbing to the strain, Jim is to blame. He’s risked the mission by removing his voice activator. Not wearing the contacts. Talking to Leonard with tender concern. The real Geoff is kind and compassionate, but even his bedside manner isn’t as gentle as Jim’s.

But he’s had to do those things. He hates being apart. He can’t stand it.

“Leo?” he asks hesitantly.

“God, I just can’t take anymore,” Leonard whispers back. “I...can’t.”

The world stops as a single tear makes it way down his cheek. Leonard had lasted this long, but he’d cracked, the break small but Jim could see it quickly becoming wider. And he isn’t going to allow him to fall apart. At least, not alone.

He takes a determined step forward.

“Oh, no,” he soothes. “No, Leo.”

“Geoff, don't do this to me,” Leonard implores him.

He sounds like a small child, his voice teeming with hurt. With sorrow. Submission. Pain. Fear. Confusion. Anger.

Jim hears it all.

He reaches out and caresses his cheek with the back of his hand. He’s never seen Leonard cry before. He wipes away the tear, vowing to never deceive Leonard like this ever again, no matter the cost.

“Please, don't cry. I'll make it better, Leo,” he says tenderly. “I’ll make most of it better, anyway. I promise.”

Leonard flinches away from his touch. The rejection feels like cold water was dashed over his head.

“That's impossible,” he says with a shaky breath. Then he surprises Jim by looking up at him with new resolve in his eyes. “We have to go. We have to make sure Joanna gets out of here, and you…”

“I have inside help,” he assures quickly. “She’ll be fine.”

Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know who you are but—”

“Yeah, you do.”

“The hell I do,” Leonard barks, slipping off the bed and standing in front of him. He pulls himself up to his full height and, ignoring his leg injury, looks coolly at him. “You’re not the Geoffrey M’Benga with whom I work most every day. You’re an imposter who moves...wh-who….who s-sounds…”

Leonard groans and with a look of defeat, puts his head in his hands.

Jim makes another vow. Before this is over, he’ll unmask Imposter Geoffrey. Leonard doesn't deserve any of this.

“I'm going insane,” Leonard whispers. “Geoff, I-I am.”

It isn’t insanity, but he won’t discount his feelings. He’ll never deny that Leo’s been hurt, never discount the authenticity of anything he’s endured.

“You're emotionally compromised, Special Agent McCoy—” Jim says softly.

Leonard glances up.

“—but not insane. Who sounds like what, Leo?” He finishes, resting his hand on Leonard’s shoulder.

“L-like…” Leonard says, trembling under his touch. “I c-can’t...can’t s-s-say.”

“It’s okay, Leo,” he soothes. “You don’t have to say his name. I know it hurts. But, this might help.”

He pinches a piece of skin of the mask between his fingers, pulling it off faster than he should. It burns his skin but they don’t have time to spare. They hardly have time for this, but he’s determined he won’t hurt Leonard any more.

He removes the mask from his face in seconds, wincing when the last of it falls away from his sensitive skin. He drops his hand, letting the mask dangle from his fingers.

They stare at each other in thunderous silence.

He understands Leonard enough to know that he’s stunned speechless. That he’ll have to be the one to break the ice. He tries to smile, failing miserably when he sees the broken expression on Leonard’s face. His crooked grin is a pale representation of what he really feels but it's all he can muster.

He quickly decides that calling him “Leo” right off the bat is too personal, will hit too many buttons. At least for now.

“Hey, Bones,” he says.

Liquid seeps from the corners of Leonard’s eyes, the tears slowly trailing down his cheeks. “Jim?”

Words are insufficient. He loves this beautiful but hurting man.

“Took ya long enough,” he quips softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you feel inclined to leave a comment - THANK YOU. Those reviews truly feed the author's soul! Okay, maybe just their inspiration. ;)
> 
> More soon. :)


	16. And All the Sanity in Me is Swept Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today...
> 
> Imagine me with my eyes clenched shut and praying ya'll like where this is going. 
> 
> *breathes deeply*
> 
> Enjoy.

Leonard isn’t moving forward like he is. He's too shell-shocked.

Jim removes his wig, but not the gloves. He can’t afford showing his handicap to Leo. Not yet. Especially not in the midst of this crazy situation they were in.

Once he’s close enough to Leonard and can look into his eyes like he wants to, he can’t keep his hands off him. He’d half-expected it, shouldn't be as worried as he is, but Leo doesn’t even react to his touch.

Leonard _never_ doesn’t react to Jim.

“I tried to give you clues,” Jim says, one hand on Leonard’s shoulder, the other wiping the tears from his lover’s face.

Jim is certain that he should’ve given Leo more clues. Tried harder. Defied Shadow’s orders from the beginning. He hadn't always followed orders in the past, but he’d been trying to since he'd met Leo. But the moment he starts being a ‘good man’ like his father had been, look at the mess it had made.

The older man blinks several times as if to try to compose himself but his face still crumples. “Yeah?” he asks hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Jim replies. He cocks his head, watching Leo’s face while holding himself back. Has it only been three days since they were this close? It seems like forever. “It’s good to see you. Really see you.”

Without warning, Leonard drops to his knees.

“Leo,” Jim whispers.

Leonard shakes his head in response and leans over with a broken cry. He covers the back of his neck with his hands, clasping them together. His shoulders quake, a guttural moan rising from his chest like a man looking down at the fresh grave of a loved one. His head is bowed, forehead almost touching the floor.

He rocks back and forth, his moan becoming a low, mournful wail.

“Ji-im,” he cries.

Jim kneels beside him and rests his hand on Leo’s shoulder. But Leo doesn’t stop, doesn’t seem to even register that he’s there beside him. He’s consumed by his emotion, his grief, his losses—all coming down on him at once.

It isn’t the reaction Jim wanted, though it isn’t far from what he expected.

Hadn’t Shadow warned him about this? Even Geoff had warned him that the drug, along with Leo’s suppressed emotions, could cause him to shut down, forget or even ignore their mission. Leo’s strong reaction is proof that Geoff’s warning was correct. Leo is having to process too many emotional blows at once. Like Jim’s ill-timed announcement. Like never having the chance to even grieve Jim’s sudden “death.” He’d been sucked into this mess unknowingly, the result having devastating effects on his psyche.

There’s nothing he can do but help him through it. He can’t bark orders at him. Not yet, though Jim is aware he might have to show him tough love to get them out of here. A man lay, possibly dying, ten feet away from them, but he could not allow Leonard to deal with his emotions by himself. If he did, neither of them would leave this place the same. Leonard would suffer psychologically even more than he already has. Jim would never forgive himself if that happened.

“I know you have to be upset with me,” he says quietly as Leonard rocks to and fro. “Leo, we’ll work this out. We will talk and make love all we want and you can scold me for what I did to myself and you can smoke all the cigars you want. I promise I won’t nag you about them. But we can’t do that now. We have to get you out of here.”

Leonard stubbornly shakes his head. His weeping fills the room, the hurt behind it devastatingly real and utterly raw.

“Leo,” he pleads, squeezing his shoulder.

“I d-don’t deserve i-it,” Leonard cries, the words laced with pain. He shakes his head furiously, denying Jim’s request. “I failed. I l-lied to you. Leave me h-here.”

The words pierce Jim’s already fragile heart. He can’t think too much about them, if they wanted to get out of here alive. The words are also coming from a man who’d reached his end. Who had nothing left to be broken. Nothing left to give.

He’d given it all.

Or so he’d thought.

Jim folds his arms around Leo, his heart bursting with fresh pain when the other man collapses against him like a dead weight.

Like he’s given up.

“Shh,” he croons, pressing a careful kiss to the top of Leo’s head, right next to crisp white bandage covering Leo’s surgical site. “It’s alright, Leo. You didn’t fail. Joanna escaped. And I’m here. Really here. And we’re together. We’re gonna beat them, alright?”

“You d-died...J-Jim,” he gasps, sobs overtaking him again. “S-saw you. T-tried…”

Jim holds Leo’s head close to his chest. “You tried to save me. I couldn’t speak with you on the ferry because Jocelyn was there. I grew too sick, too fast to say a word about what had happened. I knew you’d try to save me,” he murmurs into his hair. “And Shadow brought me back. I don’t know how, and it wasn’t without consequences. But I’m here now.”

Leonard vehemently shakes his head and pulls away. “C-crazy.”

His fingers knead and dig into his scalp over and over, his body craving movement because of the drug.

“Crazy,” he repeats in an agonizing whisper, his movements frenzied. “Crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Jim said, heart breaking in two. “I’m here, Leo. It’s not your imagination.”

“I-I am,” he croaks.

Jim kisses the bandaged spot as tenderly as he could. “Feel that?” he asks softly. “That’s me.” He kisses his cheek. “And that? Me again.”

Leonard sucks in a tremulous breath, moaning at the same time. “Leave me,” he says, voice cracking. “Go.”

“Special Agent McCoy,” he breathes in his ear. “You are crazy if you think for a minute that I’m going to leave you here.”

“Go,” Leonard whimpers.

“I’ll have none of that,” he says firmly. “Look at me. We don’t have much time.”

“I-I can’t.” He groans, rocking back and forth again. “I...Ji-Jim.”

“Yes, you can,” Jim says. “And you will. This is still a mission, Special Agent McCoy. And I've just compromised it, telling you who I am.”

Leonard holds his breath as if he’s trying to suppress his sobs. His shoulders quake once before he shakes his head. “No,” he rasps.

“Yeah, I did,” Jim says ruefully. “I compromised it, telling you that I’m alive before the mission is complete. But the truth is that I can’t complete this mission without you by my side. And if you don’t get up now, I’ll have compromised everything. Shadow will send me to a desk job if she doesn’t shoot me first,” he says lightly. “And she just promoted me, too.”

Leonard’s shudders come to a complete stop. “Promoted? Shadow?” He croaks, as if hearing Jim say her name for the first time. “You’re w-working... _with_ her?”

“Yes. She’s our inside help,” Jim explains, amazed that her name alone seemed to have brought him to his senses. “She’s hacking into Chris’s computers here but my job is this extraction. You.”

A moan comes from one of the bodies beside them. Jim glances furtively at Chris, who appears to be stirring.

“Shit. We gotta move,” he says in a hushed voice. “McCoy, ya with me?”

There’s a pause, then Leonard nods without lifting his head.

“Leo,” Jim says gently. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah,” he says in a rasp.

“I’ll hold you to it, McCoy,” Jim says simply. He stands and holds out his hand.

Leonard wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He grasps his hand and looks up at him. Jim waits, not pulling him to his feet yet.

“You came for me?” Leonard whispers, eyes pained.

Jim stares back, caught by the emotion on his face. Though his eyes are red and swollen and his cheeks stained with tears, it’s the most beautiful face he’s ever seen.

Jim smiles crookedly to encourage him. “That’s the only reason I’m even here in this place. You.”

Leonard’s brows meet in the middle. Jim heaves him to his feet but doesn’t let go. Leonard doesn’t either.

He crushes Jim in an embrace.

“You came,” he whispers chokingly, his breath hot on Jim’s ear. “Even though….you know…?”

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs.

He can’t say more. Though it’s impossible in the here and now, he wants Leo in every way. Leonard’s lips are at his cheek, too close to ignore. Jim doesn’t think. He kisses him, moaning when the older man opens his mouth and attacks Jim’s lips like it’s their first time coming together. It’s heat and electric and sweet and terrifying all at once. It’s simple but passionate, the most amazing feeling since being resurrected from the dead, since he began worrying about Leonard around the clock.

Leonard curves his hand around the nape of Jim’s neck and holds him tightly, demanding more of him. Jim is willing to give him everything he wants. His body conforms to Leo’s as their tongues dance in sync. They taste and explore each other before Leo’s tongue plunges deep into Jim’s mouth.

He’s weightless in Leo’s arms. He forgets his surroundings, his mind taking him to another time and another place where there is no danger. They don’t have time for this, no time at all, but Jim can’t think rationally when they’re kissing. He never can. When he’s with Leo in an intimate setting, he yields completely to Leo’s guidance.

Strangely enough, his own arousal brings him to his senses.

“Leo...” Jim says between kisses. “We can’t...we can’t do this...now.”

“I know.” Leonard groans. “But...need you,” he whispers raggedly. “Need you, Jim.”

“We...have to...go…ugn…” Jim says.

Leonard breaks away first, guiding them like Jim needs him to do. He tears his lips from Jim’s with a sigh and licks his lips, gaze on Jim’s bruised mouth before he looks into his eyes.

Jim breathes heavily and leans his forehead against Leo’s. “I have...a plan,” he says breathlessly.

“Shadow’s plan?” Leo asks hoarsely.

“Our plan,” Jim says. “Shadow will get to the computers, find the Intel on Jocelyn and hack into Chris’s program first. A team will be coming in to sweep this place, but only after she says the word. We don’t want to create panic.” He pauses and pulls back. “There are innocent people who are working here. We just don’t know who exactly is innocent. Taking control of this facility is the best way we can incriminate Chris and keep him in prison for life without parole.”

Leo glances down at the two agents on the ground and then back at Jim. “What about the other Geoff? Is he being extracted, too?”

“Imposter Geoff?” Jim frowns. “Or the real one?”

Leonard’s eyes widen. “There are three of you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jim grumbles.

Leonard scowls. “Who’s been working the hospital? With _me_?”

Jim winces. “Both,” he says, going over to Pike.

He bends down and pats Pike’s pockets for the two key cards he knows are there.

“Why?” Leonard presses.

From the corner of his eye, Jim watches Leonard rifle through the medical supplies in the room. He pulls out several items, including a tourniquet, and comes to kneel on the other side of Pike.

“It’s complicated,” he admits, finding and pulling the cards from Pike’s right front pants pocket.

Leonard begins tending to Pike’s arm, which is lying in a pool of blood.

“So is working with Shadow, Jim,” Leonard says so quietly, he almost doesn’t hear him.

Jim stands while Leonard finishes tying the tourniquet around Pike’s arm to prevent more blood loss.

Leo’s answer is grim, his scowl even more revealing. It confirms everything Jim felt in his gut. In fact, one look at him and a chill goes down his spine.

They stare at each other, acknowledgement passing from one to the other.

“I know,” he says. His jaw ticks in the silence. “That’s why I’m changing the plans.”

Leonard nods. “That’s why you have a badge, Jim,” he says in a quiet voice.

Jim takes a too sharp breath, the air harsh on his dry throat.

Leonard’s eyes soften. “Yeah, you don’t give yourself enough credit, and this probably has given you more doubts about yourself. And for that, I’m sorry. That’s on me. I should never have let it happen.” He hesitates. “But you belong here, Jim.”

“ _Shadow to Kirk_.”

Jim shook his head, coming back to himself. He touches the earpiece in his right ear. “Kirk here.”

“ _Bird at ten o’clock_.” Shadow says quickly.

Sparrow was free.

Jim sighs inwardly with relief. “Copy that.”

“ _What’s your situation_?”

“I have the package,” Jim says, noticing Leonard’s immediate grimace at the word “package” to describe him.

“ _Copy that._ ” She pauses. “ _Team arrives in ten minutes. Be careful. I’ll see you at our rendezvous.”_

“Copy that. Kirk out.”

Jim drops his hand and glances at Leonard, who stands. “Joanna made it. Geoff’s with her.”

Leonard nods and rubs his face with both hands, but not before Jim sees the relief reflected in his eyes. “How trustworthy is he?”

Jim licks his lips, the question unexpected. “She said...we could trust her like...like  
I trust Spock.”

Leonard frowns. Jim doesn't blame him. Her analogy indicates Geoff is completely trustworthy, a rarity in this business.

“We gotta get out of here,” Jim says swiftly before Leo can reply.

He removes the stethoscope from around his neck and turns it clockwise. He holds it in the palm of his hand and carefully picks up the additional earpiece nestled inside. He quickly exchanges the old earpiece for the new one.

“Who’s on the other end of that thing?” Leonard asks, inclining his head at the device.

“Uhura,” Jim says. “Spock is with the team that will arrive. Sulu is somewhere outside. Close.”

“I don’t want this bastard lost in the shuffle,” Leonard says, scowling down at Pike. “I’m not letting him out of my sight until I know he’s with the proper authorities.”

“Do you think he’ll live?” Jim asks.

“Maybe,” Leonard replies evenly. “He’s lost a lotta blood, Jim.”

He could see in Leo’s eyes that he wants Pike to pay, yet if he dies now it would be fine with him. Jim is not sure he agrees, still struggling with his feelings about Chris.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving him here, but…” Jim hesitates.

“What?”

He can’t say he doesn’t want to carry Pike, because it would mean he has to explain why. And Leonard would see right through him when he didn't answer.

It isn't the time or place to discuss his father’s death and possible murderer. He needs to be the best for Leonard, and hashing it out about Pike wasn’t going to help.

Jim shakes his head. “Nothing. You’ll take the gun. I’ll carry Pike.” He sets his jaw and stands over Pike. “I’ll need some help getting him up on my shoulders.”

Leonard looks at him suspiciously but comes beside him and takes Pike’s good arm, beginning to pull him up.

“What’s wrong with you, kid?” Leonard asks, the question immediately distracting him. “Besides the fact that you just died a few days ago and are now standing right here in front of me like you're my hero.”

He hears the warmth of Leonard’s voice when he says the last part but Jim snorts, anyway.

“Had a rough...few days,” he deadpans. “#381 is still in my system. And, I have to sleep like every fucking four hours.” He frowns, just noticing that Leo had essentially placed Pike’s body over his own shoulders. “That isn’t part of the plan.”

“It is now,” Leonard says, inspecting him from head to toe. “If you thought for a second I was going to let you carry this bastard when you look like shit and feel like it, too, you need your head examined. Besides, ‘I’m’ the one who just got an adrenalin shot. I can handle this, you can’t.”

“But the gun. I’m not sure I...” Jim’s voice trails off into nothing when he realizes his mistake.

“What about the gun? What aren’t you sure of?” Leonard scowls. “There’s something else you aren't telling me.”

“It’s nothing,” Jim says, retrieving both guns from Leonard’s cast.

He straps one on Leonard’s waist, thankful that Christine had listened and dressed Leonard in half-way decent clothing this morning, instead of a hospital gown. He holds the other gun, breathing with relief that his gloves seemed to be functional still, making up for his handicap. He doesn’t have another pair.

“Jim...” Leonard says, following him to the door. He beats him there, blocking it. “You need to tell me. Especially if it’s something that will compromise the mission.”

Jim quirks a brow in defiance. “It won’t compromise the mission.”

Leonard sighs. “Don’t believe you.”

He presses his hand to the device in his ear. “Kirk to Uhura.”

“ _Aye, Captain._ ”

“Make sure Sulu is in position. We’ll be there in five.”

“ _Copy that. Uhura out_.”

“Jim,” Leonard says quietly. “You’re smart, but right now you're too stubborn for your own good.”

“And you're not, Pot?” he says cheekily.

“Touché.” Leonard says. He narrows his eyes. “I'm serious, Jim.”

“Fine,” Jim grits. “It’s #381, alright? I have six unfeeling fingers and partial numbness in my left palm.” He winces, flexible his right hand. “Guess my right hand now, too.”

Leonard blinks at him. “Six fingers? Dammit, Jim,” he says in a harsh but hushed voice. He looks down at Jim’s hands. “You could’ve lost feeling in all of them. And worse...if you hadn’t fucking died.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bones,” Jim says adamantly. “Alright? Not...here.”

Leonard's jaw ticks. “Not here. But the second we’re outta here...”

Jim winces. “I know. I know—I deserve whatever you give to me.”

Leonard doesn’t answer. He’s eerily quiet, expression far too serious, like he knows Jim’s reasons for taking #381 were going to be shit.

But that was another story.

Jim sighs again. “Let’s go.”

He peers out and, seeing the coast is clear, exits the room, Leonard right behind him.

One thing he notices immediately about Leonard when he is in the field is that he’s light on his feet, even with an injured leg and a one hundred-seventy pound man on his shoulders. He moves with effortless grace and Jim is relieved that he doesn't have to be concerned about him not keeping up.

In fact, he’s keeping up a little too well. He can feel him breathing down his neck.

“What the hell, Bones? You’re like a tiger on steroids,” Jim hisses back at him.

Holding Pike securely around his neck, Leo just wags his brows like a shrug. “What? You’re the one who gave me the adrenalin.”

Jim gives him a weak smile, getting the feeling that he always works this way.

They pass two downed agents, shot in the chest, no doubt courtesy of Joanna. They stop at the first series of closed double doors leading them out of the medical wing. Jim pulls out the key cards. Just as he chooses one to slide in the keypad, a piercing horn blasts above them.

Jim cringes. “Ugh, what the hell,” he mutters.

Leonard winces as the sound continues to wail in their ears. “Dammit. What the fuck?” he shouts, quickly looking around.

Jim can hardly hear him. He returns his attention to the keypad. Whatever it is, it isn’t good. His fingers fumble and he drops the card.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Jim,” he hears Leo yell behind him.

Jim inspects his gloves, seeing holes in them. He groans. His gloves were shit and he can’t pick the card up on his own.

“Dammit,” he says, pulling them off. He turns around, shaking his head.

Leonard’s eyes widen. He doesn't say a word but places Pike on the floor with a grunt. He picks up the keycard and slides it through the keypad.

The doors don’t open.

He frowns. “I need the other card,” he shouts.

Jim looks down at himself, but Leonard is already fishing through Jim’s pockets. He pulls out the second card and deftly swipes it through the keypad.

The door opens automatically.

Relieved, Jim drops his shoulders.

“ _Time remaining until self-destruction. Four minutes and thirty-one seconds.”_

Jim's eyes widen, the loud, computerized voice coming from the speakers in the building nothing that he expected. He glances back at Leonard, who'd gone still.

“Is that in the plan?” Leonard shouts over the alarm.

Jim shakes his head. He presses his earpiece. “Kirk to Uhura.”

He hears static.

“Kirk to Uhura,” he says louder.

“ _Uhura...no....team…_ ”

“What?” Jim says loudly. “Uhura. Repeat!”

Static continues in his ear.

“Uhura!” he repeats. He’s met with silence. “Dammit.” He turns to Leo. “Connection’s dead. We’re on our own, McCoy.”

Leonard grimaces as he heaves Chris off the floor. It takes more obvious effort to put him over his shoulders the second time around, a groan escaping his lips before he’s done.

Jim isn't sure they'll make it out carrying Pike.“We might need to leave him here,” he says.

“No,” Leo snaps, eyes hard. “I can do it, Jim.”

“Not if you're injured more,” he counters. “ _You're_ my mission, Bones. Not Pike.”

“He killed you, Jim!” Leonard says vehemently. “I'm not leaving him here. I _will_ watch him suffer.”

He can't bring himself to leave the man either, but not for the same reasons, and quietly nods.

They walk swiftly down the next corridor, but after making a sharp left at the end, they stop in their tracks.

“Shit,” Jim breaths.

The way he had planned is blocked by debris, a fire already started beyond the set of double doors.

“What now?” Leonard asks.

“We have to double back!” he says.

“ _Four minutes and six seconds until self-destruction_.”

“Agh,” Leo groans, bracing himself against the wall, Pike’s body hitting the wall with force,

“What!” Jim says. “What’s wrong?”

“My leg is… It's fine,” he says, sweat pouring off his face again.

“We have to keep moving,” Jim says, peering into his eyes. “If you want him to go with us, you have to keep moving, McCoy.”

“I know,” Leo says, wincing. “I'm on it.”

With a growl, Leonard pushes away from the wall, Chris still balanced around his neck.

They’re silent as they double back, passing the same room where Wilson is now stirring.

Jim stops at the door and closes his eyes. “Dammit,” he breathes.

Leonard turns around just as Jim dashes into the room.

“You crazy?” he shouts at him over the siren.

“ _Time before self-destruction. Three minutes and twenty-five seconds._ ”

Jim ignores Leonard’s crazed eyes and heaves Wilson to his feet. He’s barely lucid, but allows Jim to guide him. The half-conscious agent doesn’t help the process, practically dragging his feet on the floor.

“Kid...” Leonard begins upon seeing them back in the hallway.

“Not letting him die.” Jim says, willing himself not to bend under the agent’s weight. “Not since we double-backed,” he explains.

Leonard leads this time, his speed and energy inspiring Jim to keep up, even with the burden of Wilson. They reach the side exit in no time. Leonard ploughs through the door with his body, keeping it open until Jim is out with Wilson.

“You sure Geoff got out?” Leonard pants once they’re on the grass and no more than ten yards yards away from the building.

“Yeah,” Jim says, panting in rhythm next to him.

They stagger across the terrain. After one hundred yards, Jim groans and shrugs Wilson off his shoulders. The agent falls to the grass with a groan, passing out.

Leonard stops beside him, grimacing from exertion as he shifts Pike’s weight.

“I need to get you out of here,” Jim says quietly, looking around.

“You sure there were people inside?” Leo asks.

Jim was wondering the same thing. They hadn’t run across a single soul, other than the two dead agents.

“Shadow could have gotten them out, or…” Jim hesitates. “They’re trapped in the east wing.”

Leonard dips under the weight of Pike. “I need to set him down.”

Jim touches the earpiece. “Kirk to Uhura.”

“ _Captain, we have a situation_.”

Jim spins around on his heel. He nods his head toward a small cluster of trees about one hundred feet away. He isn’t sure they can make it, but it was the best place to remain invisible in the immediate area.

“There,” he mouths to Leo.

Leonard nods and heads towards the trees.

“Go ahead, Uhura,’ he says, following him.

“ _There is no team_.”

“There is a team,” he says.

“ _Negative,”_ she replies. _“Spock confirmed it. Someone called them off.”_

“I need a team here now, Uhura,” Jim barks. “We have two minutes left before the building explodes and people may be trapped inside.”

“Negative,” a female voice says breathlessly behind him.

Jim turns on his heel and glares at Shadow. “Why did you call off the team?”

She’s sweating, panting as much as they are.

“The others are out.”

“Geoff?” he grits.

“He has Joanna on the other side of the building.” She swallows and briefly closes her eyes. “He’s fine. So is she. She's safe with him.”

“So it is you,” Leonard says, a chill to his voice.

Jim isn’t surprised that Leonard noticed he wasn’t following him, ultimately coming back for Jim. Even though he himself is wary of Shadow, he doesn’t understand the way Leonard’s talking to her.

Leo’s eyes are cold as he stares at the woman. “Thought you were long gone.”

“No, I’m still here,” she says softly, seemingly unbothered by Leonard's cold shoulder.

“Should I say thank you?” Leo asks, his lips curling into a sneer.

“You know me better than that,” she says quietly.

“You are not using Jim anymore than you already have,” he states angrily. He slips Chris’s body off his shoulders and sets him on the ground before turning and pulling himself up to his full height. “I don’t trust you, and we won’t talk with anyone else other than Director Archer.”

“I thought you’d say that,” she says, head cocked. “But I intend to collect today, just like I told Chris.”

Leonard chuckles darkly. “Why am I not surprised.”

Jim shakes his head. “This isn’t the right time to get into this. Chris needs surgery. That building’s gonna blow. If there’s anyone else in there, we need to get to them.”

Shadow stares sadly at him. “Jim, this isn’t your fight.”

“Leave him out of this,” Leonard grits. “I owe you. Not Jim.”

“You’re right. You do owe me, Leonard,” she says softly.

Leonard shakes his head, frowning at her. “I agree with Jim, though. I don’t think now is the right time to get into this.”

Shadow says nothing. She draws her gun with one smooth movement and shoots at Jim’s feet.

The bullet hits the grass mere inches away from his big toe. Jim stumbles back, his heart in his throat. He nearly trips on his feet, almost falling backwards onto the ground in his haste.

Leonard steps towards her, a frantic look on his face. “Jesus, what do you think you’re doing? That’s Jim you’re shooting at!”

“I need you to cooperate, Special Agent McCoy,” Shadow says, pointing the gun at Jim’s feet. “Or I will shoot his toe off the next time.”

“You wouldn't. You care for him like a son,” Leonard exclaims angrily.

She nods. “True, but in this case, what I need you to do is worth more than his toe. Or yours. Or mine, for that matter.”

“You’re sick,” Leonard whispers.

“Not as much as the rest of you,” she says softly. “Special Agent McCoy. One.”

Leonard’s brows meet together. He opens his mouth to reply, but Shadow quickly speaks.

“One,” she says softly.

Leonard’s right eye twitches. “What…”

“One,” Shadow says again in an even gentler voice.

He groans, putting his hands to his head, gripping his hair. “No...NO.”

His groan is almost savage, sounding like a low whine coming from the deepest place in his chest.

Dread stirs in the pit of Jim’s stomach. He’s confused. Leonard is acting out of character. He's acting...inhuman.

“Wait,” Jim says, heart racing wildly. “What is happening to him?”

“One,” Shadow repeats, ignoring Jim. “Delta. Oscar. November. November. Alpha. One.”

Leonard whines again, and looks down at her as if in a daze.

“One,” she states. “Delta. Oscar. November. November. Alpha. One.”

Both Leo’s eyes twitch now. His hands drop to his side. He stands tall with his shoulders back, his posture like a soldier’s.

“One. Delta. Oscar. November. November. Alpha. One.”

His eyes practically roll in the back of his head as she continues.

It’s all Jim needs to see.

“You’ve done something to him,” he whispers hastily. “Did you brainwash him? Program him?”

Made him a sleeper agent? An assassin?

His mind goes to the worst.

“Stop,” Jim pleads. “You can’t do this to him.”

She shakes her head, never once looking away from Leonard.

“Stop... _please_ ,” he begs. “What good will it do using him now, while he's hurt?”

She ignores him, choosing instead to repeat the words that are forcing Leonard to respond to her. He doesn't want to see the rest but he has to watch. If he wants to help him—save him—he has to understand everything she’s doing.

“One. One. One. One,” she says in a steady progression. “Delta. Oscar. November. November. Alpha.”

His lashes flutter as she repeats the series again. He’s settling deeper into this stupor, Shadow obviously the one who controls him now.

Tears pool in Jim’s eyes. The air around him is too thick to breathe. He’s close to a panic attack of his own. He’d known he couldn't trust her, but this is beyond anything he could imagine.

Eyes closed, another animalistic whine escapes from Leonard's throat.

“Please,” Jim rasps, stomach rolling at the sound, which filled his ears like a wail. “No more.”

“One,” Shadow says one final time.

Leonard ceases whining, the movement under his eyelids also coming to a sudden stop. His eyes flip open. They lock immediately on Shadow.

The changes in Leonard’s countenance terrify him.

Leonard's expression is blank. Yet he's alert, muscles tight and wired underneath a facade of calm and indifference.

He’s no longer Leonard McCoy.

Or his Bones.

Or even Leo.

He's a different man. He's conditioned. A programmed agent.

Jim can't fucking breathe.

The man before him...is an asset.

“Special Agent McCoy,” she begins loudly.

“Yes, sir,” Leonard says in monotone.

“Who is your handler?” she asks.

“You are, sir,” he states evenly.

“What do you do?”

“Whatever you tell me to do, sir.”

She cocks her head, assessing him. “Will you remember what I tell you? That I initiated you?”

Leonard doesn’t even blink. “No, sir.”

“Why is that?”

“I asked not to remember, sir,” he says.

“No,” Jim says brokenly. “He...he knows you're doing this? Then...doesn’t know?”

“Yes, you did ask,” she says to Leonard. “Special Agent McCoy, these are the last orders I will give you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When your mission is complete, you will return to this same spot and Agent Kirk will become your new handler.”

“What?” Jim asks in disbelief.

Leonard’s right eyes twitches. “Yes, sir.”

“As your new handler, he will need to enable you at least every two weeks to keep your mind from getting sick.”

Sick?

Jim refuses to accept this. He shakes his head. “No...”

“Do you hear Agent Kirk speaking, Agent McCoy?”

Leonard blinks. “Yes.”

She narrows her eyes and walks up to Leonard, slapping him in the face. Jim startles. Leo only reacts by turning his other cheek towards her. She slaps that one, too. He doesn’t even flinch.

Jim stares in horror at the reddened imprint of her palm on Leo’s cheeks.

“That's unacceptable, Soldier,” she barks.

Leonard stands up straighter. “Yes, _sir_! Sorry, _sir_!”

“Who is Agent Kirk to you?” she suddenly asks in a softer voice.

“My handler, sir!”

“What else?” she presses.

His right eye twitches. “I do not know, sir,” he states.

“Yes, you do Agent McCoy. You always know when I ask you that question,” she says, stepping up to him. She peers up into his eyes. “He is your lover. Repeat.”

“Agent Kirk is my lover, sir,” he replies, right eye twitching several more times.

She watches Leonard carefully. “Yes, he certainly is,” she muses aloud. “And I see that because of Agent Kirk’s presence, you are challenged by that information. Special Agent McCoy, you are in command when you are with your lover in bed—but you are not in charge here. You'll do well to remember that. Repeat.”

“Yes, sir. I am in command of my lover in bed but not here,” Leonard says evenly. “I'll do well to remember that.”

Stunned, Jim stares at her. “Don’t mix the two together, poison our lives...our love...with this!” he shouts. “Whatever this is.”

Shadow finally looks at Jim. “It’s necessary. He has to relinquish all control to me—to you—when he is initialized. But his subconscious recalls that he is control when you are intimate with each other. He can’t confuse the two or his programming will malfunction and eventually, his mental capacity in his real life. Neither can you stop being his handler. It will ruin him. I initialize him at least twice each each month, to keep his mind healthy. If I do not, his mind deteriorates. I command simple things, telling him to rest or exercise, helping him relax, but he never remembers that I do this. He asked me to make him forget it all and I’ve followed through with his request.”

“Why?” Jim breathes, keeping one eye on Leonard, who stares straight ahead, immovable and silent until Shadow commands him.

“He’s the only good agent who was programmed, Jim.” She purses her lips. “Chris programmed others. They were not well. It was a mistake, and I found a way to fix it.”

“Leonard,” Jim whispers.

She nods. “He volunteered because he believed in what I discovered and he wanted to help the others. But it was too late to fix them. Chris killed them all, though he just told Leonard they were reassigned to an office across the country. But I kept Leonard and forced Chris to stop his experimentation. He agreed as long as I used the programming to help Leonard endure living with Jocelyn for the sake of the mission and if I kept my nose out of things at the SCIF.”

A million different thoughts race through his mind, all of them scrambling for his attention. She’d saved Leonard’s life… twice now. Maybe more. But how exactly had she helped Leonard endure Jocelyn? Had she kept Leo from telling Jim the truth about his life as an agent? Conditioned him to stay day after day, even if he'd shown some initiative to abort his mission on his own? Or had she truly helped, making things bearable for Leonard? Staving off the worst?

Jim tries to slow himself down, asking calmly, “Is that why he brought him there?”

But his heart beats erratically as he awaits her answer.

“No,” she says. “He doesn’t know the sequence to initiate him. Neither does Leonard know the sequence.”

“Then...why?”

“For this,” she says and turns back to Leonard. “Special Agent McCoy, do you see Agent Pike on the ground?”

Leonard's gaze drops to the unconscious form on the grass by their feet, the building ablaze behind them, flames licking all sides of the SCIF.

Just then, sounds of shattering glass and exploding mayhem fill their ears, startling them all except Leonard.

Shadow blinks several times, appearing only somewhat shaken. But Jim sucks in a breath. The east wing is in complete shambles, a skeleton of its former state. The rest of the compound is not far behind.

“Yes, sir,” Leonard says.

“Repeat after me,” she orders. “Agent Pike is a hostile.”

“Agent Pike is a hostile,” Leonard repeats flatly.

“Special Agent McCoy, pick up the hostile,” she says simply.

There was no way that Jim could have known what she was going to say next.

But he does.

Jim’s world shrinks until all he can see is the man he'd once loved as a father—who killed his father—now slung across Leonard’s shoulders, the sounds around him disappearing except for the crackling flames devouring the compound.

He does know, and it is all he can do not to shoot her on the spot to stop it. To stop it before she forces the man he loves to kill for her.

_I intend to collect._

“Take him back into the compound.” She smiles as she says the words. “And leave him there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I almost chickened out on this entire story, not doing what I wanted to do from the beginning for this chapter, that actually ties this entire story together. Thanks to Junker5 and diamondblue4 and their encouragement, I stuck with it. The programming will hopefully explain a lot. Poor Leo. This isn't over. I'll try to update later this week so you're not left with a cliffhanger too long. 
> 
> Please, review? I love hearing your thoughts. :)


	17. I'll Crawl on My Belly Til the Sun Goes Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Not feeling too well as I post this, but managing to update for you all before the weekend comes. Two of my children, who are also sick, passed it on to me. :( 
> 
> Thank you for your comments last chapter. I've appreciated them so much, especially since this little story of mine has had a limited response compared to my other works. Your words make a big difference and give me that extra inspiration. Thanks so much.
> 
> We are picking up right where we left off last chapter. Hope you enjoy this new installment.

__

Jim remembers the day Number One and Pike had invited him into their home like it was yesterday.

He’d been gone for years, plunging his hands in anything that would make him forget his past. The abandonment. Loneliness. Resentment. Anger. He’d turned to things he wasn’t proud of. Things best left forgotten. More things that had made him fight. Other things that had matured him.

But he’d come back. He’d returned bruised and battered, falling into open arms and a loving home. With the resilience of a Kirk, he’d begun to pave his own way, Chris and Number One urging him on.

He was the epitome of the prodigal son and had made the best of his painful, unpredictable life ever since.

Yet, he was always standing in a shadow.

The shadow of his father’s life is imprinted in his mind as good. Heroic. Honest. Full of integrity. The Shadow in front of him is murky. Duplicitous. Her smile confident and serene, her voice as smooth as silk and cunning as a snake.

And it has Leonard under its spell.

But Leonard is not hers. Leonard is _his_. Not because he owns Leonard’s mind, although it appears that he will in just a few short minutes. It is just the opposite.

Jim is _Leo’s_. Leo has Jim’s heart. He holds it in his very hands. It’s fitting, since Leo is the surgeon. The doctor. The healer.

They’re entwined. Even in this chaos, their lives are interconnected, dependent upon each other for survival. Shadow made that devastatingly clear when she differentiated Leonard and Jim’s love life from her programming for Leo. Though Jim had never told Pike how much he depended on Leo, especially when it came to intimate matters, he always thought the older man had at least suspected that Leonard took charge. It makes his stomach roll knowing that even that part of their lives had been manipulated, despite being beneficial—even necessary—for Jim and Leonard’s emotional and mental health.

Their health that is now in shambles.

Leonard doesn’t hesitate once Shadow gives the command. He needs no other order but turns and strides toward the self-destructing compound, the burden along his shoulders making no difference in his long, fast strides across the grass.

He’ll reach the compound in under a minute. The rest of the building possibly exploding as he reaches its threshold, burying not only Pike in its remains, but Leonard along with him. And not just their bodies. But also their _dust_.

Jim looks angrily at Shadow. “Stop him,” he orders vehemently. “You know this isn’t right. He would never agree to this.”

He’s tempted to pull his gun but instinctively knows that there’d be no use in doing so. The woman claims to love him like a son. Claims to have loved Pike. Now loves Imposter Geoff, if Jim had judged the chemistry between them correctly. But that isn't enough for her. She loves her own agenda more. She’ll die before calling Leonard back.

He grips both of her arms, squeezing them until she gasps and is forced to look into his eyes.

His eyes flash down at her. “Don’t make him do this!” he says harshly. “I’ll do it. Let me be the one.”

She blinks at him, as if shocked that he offered to take Leonard's place. “I know you don’t understand, Jim, but maybe in the future you will. It has to be him. It could never be you. I need to be free of Chris. We all do. Especially you, Jim.”

“Don’t tell me you’re doing this for _me_ ,” he snaps.

“I am,” she whispers, eyes wide and bright. “You’re like a son…” Her voice cracks. “He can’t be allowed to live, Jim. And if you can’t see that …”

“And if they both die?” he challenges.

She lifts her chin, eyes bright as she stares past Jim to Leonard. “He won't. In this state of mind, he's swift and ruthless. He’ll make it.”

Jim glances back at Leonard. He sees only one way to stop him. And he takes it.

He lets go of Shadow. He lets go of all practical, rational thought. He breaks into a run, forcing his beaten, once-dead body to do the impossible. Catch up to an adrenalin-induced, programmed agent who will let nothing stop him from fulfilling his mission. Even the man with whom he shares a bed and a love and hope for a future.

“No, Jim!” Shadow cries from behind him. “You can’t follow him.”

He runs, ignoring her pleas just as she’d ignored his.

He has no intentions of stopping.

“He could kill you!” she gasps, following behind him. “Jim...stop! He hasn’t ...completed the...mission. He won’t let you get...in the way!”

He ignores her warnings and maintains his pace. Leonard will reach the fire alone and not in his right mind. Tears race down Jim’s cheeks when he realizes that the worst is likely to happen.

The no-win scenario that he scoffs at, that his dad never believed in, is staring him right in the face.

He isn’t going to make it. That much is obvious. He won't be able to stop Leo. But he will make it in time for Leonard to at least see him and hear his voice before they both die. It’s naive to think that it’s enough. How can someone’s voice stop a brainwashed, programmed agent? But he has to try.

If he doesn’t take this chance, he will regret it forever. If he survives and Leonard doesn’t, Jim will never be the same man. If Leonard survives and Jim doesn’t, Jim will have passed on with the hope that he’d somehow made a difference in Leo’s life.

He simply can’t live without Leo. If that makes him a weak person, than so be it. He’d be the walking dead, useless in life. Leonard had taken his heart a long time ago in another place, another time. Although Chris had intended it for evil, manipulated Leonard into meeting him, his plans had been turned to good.

After five seconds of running, Jim’s legs are like rubber and he nearly stumbles over a small hill. Ten seconds and he still isn’t gaining on Leonard. He’s behind, but he thinks Leonard can hear him.

“Agent McCoy!” he cries out, using what little strength he has left to speak.

Jim doesn’t imagine it. Leonard’s legs slow down a fraction of a second before he’s striding forward at the same speed he was before.

“Agent McCoy!” Jim says again.

Leonard slows to a jog.

Hope springs in Jim’s chest. He huffs and, ignoring the burn in his legs, wills his body to stretch its limits one more time.

“Agent McCoy,” he shouts for a third time.

Though Jim only sees Leonard’s back, Leo appears confused, charging four steps then slowing down for two. Three then one. His pattern is irregular. Jim knows in his gut that he’s indecisive.

His hope grows, but he’s pushed his body too hard, too fast. He leans into his steps with desperation, telling himself to move forward for Leo’s sake.

Pain suddenly bursts throughout his chest, momentarily stunning him and sucking all thoughts out of his mind. Panic soon follows. He can’t find air, can’t catch his breath, can’t stop the world from spinning around him.

“Ugh,” he gasps.

It’s the last thing he says before his body slumps to the ground. He groans, the wind knocked out of him as he lands hard on his side, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.

“Leo,” he rasps, shaking his head to clear it. He knows he’s wasted precious time, time he doesn’t have. “Dammit...no.”

He can’t be down. Now now.

Limbs shaking, Jim rolls over onto his stomach and after pushing himself up on his palms, lifts his head. He squints, searching for Leonard, but his surroundings are confusing. He peers around a few more seconds and finally finds him. From his low vantage point, Leonard in programmed form looks even more ominous. The flames before him provide a vivid but terrifying backdrop that is unpredictable and dangerous.

“Ungh,” Jim groans, pushing himself on all fours.

He stands, wavering on his feet. He’s about to run forward but sees a figure rounding the side of the building from the corner of his eye. Jim pauses and squints again, rubbing the sweat from his eyes when his vision blurs.

It’s a man in the midst of flames, staying as close to the side of the compound as he can.

Jim’s eyes widen at the man’s reckless behavior. The flames could reach him at any given moment, doing more damage than singing the hair on his arm.

Jim starts to run again—but another explosion rocks the building. He rolls back on his feet at the blast, helplessly watching as the man jumps to avoid the new flames bursting around him. His arms are in front of his head as he ducks under a fallen piece of debris. He moves swiftly away from the debris and flames, his face flushed, and expression grim.

Jim can’t believe his eyes.

It’s Geoff.

Imposter Geoff.

The man whose reluctance to answer Jim had irritated him just over a day ago. A man Jim couldn’t read no matter how hard he’d tried.

Geoff races over the terrain at a staggering pace. He’s headed straight for Leonard, a focused and determined look on his face. As if he plans to keep going, never stopping.

As if Geoff plans to actually try to _stop_ Leonard. Risking his own life in the process.

Jim takes several steps forward, a new hope burgeoning in his chest. And, most importantly, a gut feeling. Geoff is coming to help. And if Leonard doesn’t kill Geoff first, the surgeon can possibly stop Leonard long enough for Jim to try to make Leonard listen to him.

“Agent McCoy,” Shadow suddenly orders from behind him. “Do not let Geoff get in your way! Remember your mission.”

Leonard growls at her words, Geoff’s expression simultaneously hardening as he barrels towards Leo. Jim’s stomach churns, the inevitable crash flashing before his eyes before it even occurs.

“Jim!” Geoff shouts, swiftly closing in on Leo. “Tell him to stand down! He'll listen to you!”

Jim takes a deep breath, locking his legs into place. He has no breath when he runs. “Special Agent McCoy, this is Agent Kirk,” he says, words growing steadier with each second. “I am your handler now. Your orders have changed. Stand down!”

The air thickens, Leonard’s pace staggering and intermittent as he continues towards the facility.

“Again!” Geoff yells, his arms pumping at his sides as he runs with quick, precise movements. “Keep trying!”

“No,” Shadow cries behind him.

“Special Agent McCoy, this is your new handler, Agent Kirk. Stand down!” Jim yells.

But the last few feet between Geoff and Leonard disappear in a blink of an eye.

Geoff throws a right hook, punching Leonard in the face before they crash into each other.

Hearing the sound of bone striking flesh, Jim lurches forward. “Leo!” he involuntarily cries out.

Leonard stumbles back with a grunt but doesn't fall. His hands raise in front to his face to block another aggressive hit. Jim can’t believe he doesn’t fall down from the force of Geoff’s powerful punch.

Without Leonard holding him in place, Pike falls from his shoulders, hitting the ground with a thump, forgotten as Leonard and Geoff are already tangled in a fight.

Jim sprints ahead with a surge of adrenalin, just as Leonard retaliates. He swings hard, knocking Geoff to the ground with a single punch.

Geoff had thrown only two punches, the first and the second. He is merely defending himself now, blocking his face with his arms. It is a futile effort. Leonard stands over him, pounding his face in. Geoff’s arms slide down, in essence offering Leo every opportunity to hurt him.

Jim only has to think once about Geoff’s actions. Programmed or not, Leonard is still recovering from a concussion and a days old surgical site, making him incredibly vulnerable. The surgeon-agent is essentially protecting Leonard from himself, in more ways than one.

With Geoff’s face more visible, Jim is sickened by the harm Leo has already inflicted. Not only is Geoff’s mask being distorted with every hit, loosening and peeling off, but the real flesh underneath is bloodied and battered.

Leonard’s fists are powerful and swift. Ruthless, as Shadow had said they would be. Though Geoff was also strong, he’s no match for a programmed agent with a build like Leonard's.

Geoff’s eyes are swollen and barely open. He groans and peers at Jim.

“Ag-gain,” Geoff sputters, groaning through another punch, his voice distorted as if his throat and voice activator had taken a hit as well. “Try…”

Jim staggers to a stop just out of arm's reach from them, panting for breath. Leonard is squeezing Geoff’s neck with one hand, the other arm pulled back and readying to deliver another punch.

Jim feels a flash of panic at the sound of gurgling and choking.

“Special Agent McCoy, you are disobeying a direct order!” Jim commands harshly, practically shouting the words. “You will be punished. I am in command here, not you. Stand down and release him!”

Leonard stills mid-air, his chest heaving. His hand relaxes around Geoff’s neck. Eyes wide and glazed, Geoff wheezes, gasping for air. He coughs several times, staring wildly up at the sky.

Jim circles Geoff and Leonard, positioning himself so that when Leonard glances up he will be looking directly into Jim’s eyes.

“I am in command here, Special Agent McCoy. You are not,” he repeats in an even sterner voice. “You would do well to remember that. Stand. _Down_.”

He holds his breath, carefully gauging Leonard’s reaction. His right eye twitches but he doesn't look up. Jim has concerns about this tic. As soon as he is able, he will take Leonard to the neurotech Spock often recommends and Jim knows personally. He suspects the tic is a crack in the programming, maybe even influenced by Jim's presence. Given their history together, he isn't surprised Leonard has difficulty both hearing his voice and seeing him while initialized.

“You are not in command here, Special Agent McCoy. I am,” Jim commands again.

Leonard’s right eye twitches three times before he slowly lowers his arm and releases Geoff entirely. He looks up at Jim, face blank.

Jim softens his features, looking for more than a controlled reaction from him. Although Leonard’s expression remains impassive, he is positive he sees recognition reflected in his eyes for a split second. But then it’s gone, and there’s nothing in Leonard’s expression that gives Jim hope that the conditioning is faulty.

Geoff exhales a strangled breath in relief, gaze warily flitting from Leonard to Jim and back again.

“Keep talking to him,” Geoff whispers in that distorted voice. He huffs and closes his eyes, his breathing shallow. He reaches a hand to his face, assessing his own injuries, his hand lingering at his throat as he coughs. “Keep...talking.”

“You've disobeyed a direct order, Special Agent McCoy,” Jim says evenly. “You should be punished. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Leonard turns his cheek slightly towards Jim. “I should be punished, sir.”

Jim swallows painfully as he looks down at him. Slapping Leo’s cheek, as horrible as it would be for him to do, would solidify their relationship as handler and assert. But he wants to tear down that programming instead of reinforcing it.

He will take a chance and try something else.

“But I will never punish you like you are used to, Special Agent McCoy,” he explains softly. “We will discuss your lack of discretion, instead.” He pauses as Geoff coughs several times. “Stand away from Doctor M’Benga, Special Agent McCoy.”

Leonard immediately gets to his feet and steps away, body coiled and ready to fight, nonetheless.

“At ease, Special Agent McCoy," Jim says, keeping one eye on Geoff.

When Leonard’s stance relaxes, he inwardly sighs with relief.

He’s concerned about the agent’s breathing, which is labored. He’s not surprised, given that the flesh underneath his mask is ashen if not bloodied and Leonard’s handprint on his neck is partially visible, too.

“Are you alright?” Jim asks Geoff, genuinely concerned.

“I’ll live,” he rasps.

Jim looks doubtfully at him. He touches the earpiece. “Kirk to Uhura.”

“ _Yes, Captain.”_

“I need a med team immediately.” He frowns down at Chris, who looks close to death, if not dead already. “One critical, two others …” He breathes shakily. “Be prepared for anything,” he murmurs at the end. “Have a tranquilizer or two on hand.”

He shivers slightly as he speaks the last part, but doesn’t allow himself to go as far as imagining anyone using one on Leonard.

“ _Copy that.”_

“Kirk out.”

Jim turns back to Leonard, who hasn’t moved an inch, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

He feels as if he’s in a dream, watching himself order a programmed agent who isn’t his lover, but someone else entirely.

But he can’t lose it here. Not yet. Maybe when things are behind him, he can allow himself a moment to scream at the universe for fucking with him since the very day he’d been born.

“Who is your handler, Special Agent McCoy?” Jim asks with more bite than he intended.

“You, sir!” Leonard says loudly.

Jim presses his mouth firmly together, noticing Shadow approaching from the corner of his eye. “Who is Shadow?”

Leonard blinks once.

“Is she your handler?” Jim asks quickly, needing to solidify their ‘relationship’ as much as possible before Shadow tries to undo his progress.

Leonard’s right eye twitches.

“Agent McCoy, you must answer immediately when I ask you a question,” Jim orders.

“Sorry, sir,” Leonard says, turning his cheek as if expecting a ‘punishment.’ He blinks, then moves his head back as if remembering his handler’s words that he wouldn’t slap him. “No, sir, she is not my handler.”

“Good, Agent McCoy,” Jim says. “I am your handler. The only one. You will do well to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jim tamps down his nausea and continues. “Repeat!”

“You are my handler. The only one. I will do well to remember that.”

“Good, Special Agent—”

Geoff starts to violently choke. Jim goes down on his knees beside the man, assessing his condition.

There's blood trickling from the corner of Geoff’s mouth. Jim quickly turns him over on his side. The agent spits and coughs up blood onto the grass.

Geoff coughs several times then grimaces. “I'm...fine.”

Jim frowns, seeing the voice activator partially stuck in his neck, the tip of it actually melted along with the face skin.

“I see part of the problem,” he says, frowning deeper. “This may hurt a little.”

Geoff clenches his eyes shut and nods. Jim puts one hand on the other man’s shoulder to brace him, and with the other hand uses the two fingers he has feeling in to grasp the activator. He clenches his jaw and gently tugs on the activator until it's come out.

The spot instantly starts to bleeds, but Geoff places his own hand over the injury. “Thanks,” he rasps.

Jim draws back, perplexed.

He knows that voice. At least, he thinks he does. It’s vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it.

He inspects Geoff’s face, his true face. At least the part of it he can see. With the mask half off, Jim could now see the strong jaw, a few lines around his mouth indicating he was older than “Geoff,” and a thin but ragged pink scar traveling down from his right cheek to his chin.

He cocks his head, assessing him, though he’s not sure why he’s taking the time to do so.

Geoff’s eyes widen and he blinks several times. “I think...my mask melted a bit?”

“You could say that,” Jim says slowly, getting the feeling that he was diverting his attention. “I wouldn't try taking any of it off until the medics arrive.”

“Agent McCoy, you did not follow through with my orders.”

Jim flips his head around to see Shadow standing in front of Leonard, her eyes flashing.

Leonard doesn't reply. He doesn’t even look down at her.

“You must reply when I'm talking to you, Special Agent McCoy,” she says.

Jim feels a flash of victory when Leonard’s eyes never twitch. He stares straight ahead, silent.

“Fulfill your mission,” she says through clenched teeth. “Pick up the hostile and—”

The blast they've been expecting comes, cutting her off.

Jim startles and shields his face, feeling the heat from the fire as flames pour out in every direction. When he glances at Leonard, he is unmoved and waiting for ‘orders.’ Geoff scrambles to his feet. He jumps in front of Jim as if to protect him, now so close that Jim actually has to step back.

He’s usually extremely aware of his surroundings, but the gun pressing into the small of his back tells him he’d unwisely paid more attention to Geoff and his face than the woman who’d caused their problems in the first place. Granted he’d also been ensuring that Leo would answer to him, not Shadow, but he’d been distracted, keeping an eye on the person who would continue compromising all of them until her agenda had been resolved.

Geoff turns around slowly, his head down and cocked, cautiously looking back as if realizing things had grown too quiet behind him. Upon seeing Shadow and the gun at Jim’s back, he straightens his shoulders and lifts his head.

His eyes teem with anger, flashing with an unidentifiable but intense emotion that strangely comforts Jim.

Jim swallows, blinking as he stares back at Geoff. The feeling he’d had before washes over him again.

His life is surreal, in a very-bad-no-good-day sort of way. He used to love snow globes as a child, looking in and seeing the picture perfect family he never had. He’s looking in from the outside now.

Except... he’s on the outside looking in at a train wreck.

He thinks it is too much, that he can’t take any more chaos in his life.

He thinks if there was ever a time that he couldn’t hold it together, it’s now.

It’s now, and he believes he’s fucking earned it.

But somehow his eyes lock on Geoff. Because he can’t look at Leonard, who might know what is going on as a programmed agent or even as a man stuck in his own head, but isn’t doing a fucking thing to help Jim because he’s fucking programmed. He’s conditioned. He only follows orders. He stands to the side, shoulders back and eyes fixed on the horizon in front of him.

Even if Jim managed to give him orders without being shot, he has no idea what to say, what words to provoke him to action without hesitation. Neither does he wish to endanger Leo’s life. He can't order him. To keep him safe, he has to do this himself. Alone.

“You won’t shoot him,” Geoff says with a chuckle. “He’s your son.”

The activator gone, his voice, although rough around the edges, is warmer than before. More familiar. A touch comforting in this harrowing moment.

The events of the past few days swim in Jim’s mind, the people, the missions, the unknowns. How could there be anything else? Jim swallows a second time, panic swelling in his chest that he won't survive to help Leonard come out of the conditioning.

Geoff’s eyes fall on Jim’s face as if sensing his anxiety before flitting back to Shadow.

“In every way except for birth, yes he is,” she says. “But do you want to take that chance?”

Geoff’s brows meet. He stares quizzically at her.

“Pick him up,” she whispers in a low, threatening voice. “Finish what McCoy was supposed to do.”

Geoff blinks several times, showing his surprise. “That’s a bit...ironic, don’t you think?”

“True. But strange things do happen here,” she says smoothly.

Geoff takes a large breath, expression impassive as he glances at Jim again. “I won’t do it.”

Jim’s brows rise. Geoff never looks away at Jim, but his face softens. As if telling him it'll be okay despite the fact that he just signed Jim’s death warrant.

Was he fucking serious?

Shadow sucks in a breath. “You’ve killed him, you know. Or paralyzed him. I know exactly where to shoot to make him a vegetable.”

She presses the gun into Jim’s back. He winces, the gun sharp and cold.

“Not unless you give Jim the proper commands to snap Special Agent McCoy out of his stupor,” Geoff says evenly.

Shadow is silent.

“And he’ll use the commands first, not you,” Geoff adds quietly. “You know you’ve won. Don’t ruin all of our lives. Jim’s been hurt enough. So has Leonard.”

“You always did strike a hard bargain,” she murmurs.

“The command,” Geoff states slowly. “Now, Number One.”

“‘One’ four times. His sister's name backwards,” she says through clenched teeth. “Then a final ‘one.’ Do that twice.”

“That’s it?” Geoff asks.

“Yes,” she confirms.

Geoff inclines his head towards Jim. “Go ahead,” he urges.

Jim closes his eyes. If this doesn't work, Jim will not stand here with a gun to his back.

He’d act.

“One,” he begins slowly. “One. One. One. Alpha. November….”

Leonard’s right eye twitches, then his left.

“...November. Ostrich. Delta. One.”

Leonard’s eyelashes flutter, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body rocking side to side, the movements quicker than they’d been when he’d been initialized.

“One. One. One. One. Alpha,” Jim voice cracks as Leonard abruptly drops to his knees.

Leonard whines, the sound as low and animalistic as before. He lifts his hands to his head, digging his fingers into his skull. Seeing that the words are effective, Jim continues in as commanding a voice as he can manage.

“...November. November…Ostrich. Delta...One,” Jim finishes, but not without a hitch to his voice.

Leonard goes limp, collapsing on his side on the grass. Jim wants to observe him, make sure he's waking up but Shadow digs the gun into his back.

“Now it’s your turn,” Shadow says to Geoff.

Geoff slowly nods and with a grunt, heaves Pike’s body off the ground, lifting him over his shoulders.

“You sure you want it to end this way?” he asks, hesitating.

“I always wanted it to end this way,” she says softly.

“You’re going too far, again, Number One,” Geoff says with a rare softness in his voice.

Jim stiffens, unsure of what to make of it.

“I went too far the moment I saved you all those years ago,” she says in a whisper. “And look...you won’t even tell him the truth, even when he’s right in front of you. You had an excuse all these years, no one could ever deny you that, but now you don't.”

Geoff’s eyes are stricken with emotion. “Please... _don’t_. It's not the right time.”

“But when will it be the right time, George?” she murmurs.

_George?_

Jim stares at Geoff’s face, the parts now unmasked. His jaw. The scar on his cheek. His mouth.

_George?_

“When your son goes another year thinking he's fatherless, now that Chris’s true nature has come to light?”

Jim’s vision narrows, darkness encroaching around the edges and overshadowing the flames behind Geoff, the very man he was staring at in numbed realization.

_George?_

Geoff smiles sadly at him. “Jim…”

“Jim…”

Jim’s eyes flicker over to the grass where Leonard lay, moaning his name. Head moving restlessly, Leonard is squinting up at the sky.

“Jim?” he repeats hoarsely.

But Jim is frozen.

“I think I’m the only one with enough guts to do it,” Shadow says.

_George?_

“Jim,” Geoff whispers.

“Jim…?” Leonard breathes, his body going slack. “Where...what?”

“ _Jim.”_

Jim stares at a blank spot in front of him.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Who to answer.

What to say.

What to fucking think.

When he finally does think, Geoff—George? His father?—isn’t looking at him with those sad eyes anymore. He’s looking at Shadow.

“I won’t kill for you,” his father is saying to her.

“You don't really have a choice in the matter, George,” she says, humming noncommittally in her throat. “Go.”

“I don’t think so,” says another voice from behind them.

Shadow stiffens behind him.

He smiles to himself, not having to look to know what was happening.

Sulu had finally emerged.

He'd ordered Sulu to position himself outside the compound, giving him clear instructions to wait as long as possible. It’s almost too late, but he isn’t about to complain.

If something could actually go fucking right...

“Drop the gun, Agent Pike,” Sulu says.

“Just one of you?” she scoffs.

“Two,” another voice answers.

Despite the two men looking worriedly at him—one a ghost, the other, who is gradually awakening on the grass, the love of his life—he slowly grins.

“You sure took your damn time,” he says in jest, still not turning his head.

His lips quirk at the corners and he blinks furiously against the emotion—the relief—swelling in his chest. But, a gun is being pointed at him. He still isn’t moving, period.

Spock sighs faintly. “Captain, you did say to wait until the last possible mo—”

Jim huffs and promptly interrupts before Spock can go any further.

“Yeah, yeah. So I did,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “A technicality.”

His father cocks his head, his expression warm as he stares at Jim.

“A technicality I am not certain was worth your life,” Spock replies shortly.

Jim winces. “I should have amended that, now that I think of it.”

“Hindsight is twenty twenty, Captain,” Spock says promptly, then, “Stand down, Agent Pike.”

The gun is removed from his back, and he hears the click of handcuffs.

“You won’t win any case against me,” she says.

Giving his father a guarded look, Jim turns around and nods at Sulu.

“I can say with certainty that we will take in consideration all that you have done,” Sulu says quietly to her. “Without your assistance, three men would have died. If not years ago, then today. And perhaps repeatedly. But your actions are not only questionable, they are dishonorable to the bureau and the decency of life.”

“You don’t have the authority to say those things,” she spits out.

“So it appears,” Sulu says slowly.

Understanding fills Shadow's eyes before it happens. Sulu pinches the skin of his neck.

She stiffens. “No…”

He pulls and and the face mask is off, revealing himself.

No longer Sulu, but the man with the ultimate authority to say so, Director Archer narrows his eyes on her. “But as you see, I do.”

“Scotty, you bastard, you did it,” Jim breathes.

As much as Scotty had balked at him for requesting a face mask in just twenty-four hours, he’d pulled through. Jim makes a mental note to give him the day off tomorrow. And maybe a sandwich. Or a dozen with a bottle of the best whiskey in town.

“I knew you had something up your sleeve,” his father says, looking at him with new respect in his eyes.

Despite the questions he has, the slight swell of anger and denial that George Kirk was standing in front of him after all of these years, his father’s smile is everything to him in that single moment.

Shadow swallows, expression pleading. “Director Archer, you know I would never have harmed Jim…”

“I know you love him as your son, but you endangered his life.” Director Archer shakes his head. “This is not just about Jim or about Special Agent McCoy, who you also endangered and grossly mistreated, but it is also about everything else I’ve just learned. And the rest that you haven’t revealed to me yet. This has gone on far too long. It’s over, Shadow.

“Jim?” The hesitant whisper is Leonard’s, coming from Jim’s left, where he is still lying on the grass.

His heart thudding in his ears, Jim can hardly pay attention to Archer. To Shadow. Anyone.

Even his own father.

Jim glances over at Leonard, who is just getting to his feet, eyes spilling over with pain and regret. He doesn’t wait another moment. He races over, and just in time.

Leonard sags. Jim folds his arms around him, catching him. Leonard buries his head into Jim’s shoulder before he even has a chance to look into his eyes.

“I’ve gotcha,” Jim breathes in his ear.

“Jim,” Leonard gasps, his dead weight bringing them both to their knees.

Jim’s arm tightens around Leonard’s waist, securing him by his side.

Where he belongs.

“I love you,” he whispers, earnestly pressing a kiss to Leonard’s cheek. “No matter what just happened between us, I fucking love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if you've noticed my little clues or foreshadowing regarding Leonard's programming and Geoff's identity in previous chapters. But I will tell you a few for the fun of it. :D I think there are a few more than I mentioned below but my brain isn't working well since I'm not feeling too great.
> 
> For instance, when Leonard is in his safehouse, he mumbles the word "one" over and over. One is among the commands Shadow uses to initialize him. Jim notices the repetition and how strange his voice sounds when he says the word(s). Chris Pike asks Shadow about Leonard and makes the note that they could have used him for a serious of missions. The summary as a whole indicates that McCoy doesn't trust himself and the programming is one of the main reasons why he doesn't trust himself, also his trauma living with Jocelyn and the emotional fallout from the abuse. The way he also continues to refer to Joanna-Donna in his mind as his daughter may also be a result of this programming, but more on that in future chapters. That will be a huge deal - b/c of the deep cover and programming - it has forever changed how he thinks of Donna. (Also Joanna-Donna's thoughts, b/c there will be at least two emotional scenes with her and Leo in the furture.)
> 
> I hinted at Geoff's real identity several times. :) When Jim awakens from his "death" and asks if he's dead, Shadow comments that he's "a Kirk" and that since he's a Kirk, "he'll live." That is a direct reference to Shadow's involvement saving George Kirk years ago. When they are at Pike's compound, Jim and "Geoff" are side by side at the sink and Jim notices they are nearly the same height and weight. He notices that Geoff is smart but also cocky. :) Shadow tells Jim that Geoff is as trustworthy as Spock, meaning that he has to be someone she knows well - or Jim even "knows." When Geoff and Jim are standing off in Shadow's research room, she states that they are boys not men. That was also meant to foreshadow some similarities such as their stubbornness, and their father-son relationship. Jim feels "scolded by his father," later in that same chapter too. 
> 
> I don't think I'll be able to post the next chapters until later next week. I have to tend to And If I Stand, but I will be back soon to wrap things up. There are emotional scenes coming up, including one with Jim and his dad. Also, scenes to deal with Leonard and his mental state after all of this, and if he even remembers that he's programmed. His reactions, his POV after this difficult scene, and more. The landscape of Jim and Leonard's life WILL change, no doubt.
> 
> I wanted George in this fic so badly from the beginning, to write him as Jim's father who is actually alive. Finally, we are at that point! I also wanted him to be the one to help Leonard, portraying the Kirkian trait of risking his own life for another. I hope you appreciate that twist! 
> 
> I have just two chapters left and two epilogues to post. The second epilogue will be quite the mind twister, just a forewarning. But it's actually an "alternate" epilogue that will help prepare the road for a possible sequel that crossovers with the regular Star Trek Beyond crew. :) No more on that, b/c I want the rest to be a surprise. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading. I'd LOVE to hear from you and chat about crazy twists. :D
> 
> Until next time.


	18. There's Too Much That Time Cannot Erase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little late on my promise for updating in a week, but this chapter grew twice as large as I expected! 9K! Eek! Nonetheless, I'm posting this as one chapter, although it could easily count as two. 
> 
> We are closing in on the end, and I'm so sad! :(
> 
> Thank you, Junker5 and Diamondblue4, for looking over this chapter several times this past week. I know it was a big one with lots of details. *HUGS* I appreciate your attention to this fic and encouragement to me so much. *MORE HUGS*
> 
> This chapter picks up near the end of the last chapter, in Leonard's POV. Enjoy. :)

 

As soon as Jim reaches him, Leonard buries his head in his shoulder, never wanting comfort so much in his life.

It’s unlike him. It isn’t him. He doesn't just _stop_. He doesn’t do the stopping. He's trained to endure. Make the best of each situation. Press on. Ignore the pain. Ignore the chaos.

But he’s confused. Helplessly confused.

Jim's his lifeline. He always was. He can’t help but get the sense that he’s his lifeline more than ever now. More than exhaustion creeps into his body, taking over. His emotions threaten to spiral out of control like they had in the compound; the thoughts in his head are all fighting for shotgun at once. For command. For release.

“I gotcha,” Jim whispers.

His tongue sticks to the roof of his dry mouth, and it’s as if sandpaper coats his throat, but he somehow manages to hoarsely exclaim, “Jim,” as his body weakens in his embrace.

Their knees hit the ground in unison, fitting since they were in this together. Sharp pain shoots from his kneecap. He’s getting old, he thinks, this life taking more out of him than it's worth. Even the mission to bring down Jocelyn isn’t worth it anymore. He sees that now.

Would Jim still go away with him? Could they leave all of this behind like they’d planned? Was the world finally open to him again? Would it stay open, until they picked the pieces of their lives back up?

He wants to go—he wants to disappear—and tucks his face into Jim’s neck. His face hurts when he does, like he’s been in a fight, punched several times, cheeks now bruised. Nonetheless, it’s his own mental state which concerns him the most.

He can't recall why he was over here on the grass in the first place, lying on the grass and struggling to awaken. Or why Geoff’s face is a mess of blood and broken skin. Or why his feels like a mottled mess. Or how Director Archer and Spock had snuck up on them. The last thing he remembers is his anger, realizing that Shadow was using Jim. She’d wanted Leonard to pay up.

It's all a blur after that.

And he doesn't know why. He doesn't know why.

He doesn’t know.

_He doesn’t fucking know._

He has a feeling Jim knows. A dreadful, shameful feeling.

He’s afraid they'll have to talk about what happened soon, why he can't remember. And that when they finally talk, it won't be easy. When people forget things in his line of work, it usually means memory loss due to an injury, programming, or a drug.

It’s a relief to know that he isn’t programmed. That would be impossible. He has Joanna to think of. He’d never sign up for that, in the first place. But he’d had a concussion, been given medication, and was recovering from surgery.

He takes a deep breath, more relief washing over him that there were reasonable explanations. Still, he clings to Jim, and Jim is clinging back just as much.

Voices buzz around them. Jim speaks to them, his voice rumbling in his chest. Leonard smiles to himself when he feels the vibrations.

He basks in it. In the warmth of Jim. The vibrations that indicate a breathing, human being. There is nothing better because it means that he’s alive.

Alive. Jim is alive. Joanna is free. Jim is alive.

It’s all he wants in life.

They’re free. _Free_.

“I love you, Leo,” Jim whispers in his hair, his arms wrapped solidly around him. “I want what’s best for you. For us. You know that, right?”

The series of statements provoke Leonard out of his own head. With a jolt, he comes back to reality—they’d just escaped a building that was self-destructing.

He breathes in Jim’s sweat, curling his fingers into the dampness of Jim’s shirt until he realizes his own hands ache. He unclenches them like an old man would release his hold from a cane. He winces, his knuckles stinging like he’d done the punching instead of being the punching bag.

He could be reading too much into those words, but he isn’t sure. Needing to look him directly in the eye to discern for himself, also to check his own injuries, he pulls away from Jim’s embrace.

Blinking several times, he’s surprised that Jim looks so fatigued before he remembers—he’d been dead. Of course he looks like one gust of wind would bowl him over. He’d also just carried Wilson, and who knew what else had gone on while Leonard had been taking a mental vacation.

He opens his mouth to speak but Jim shushes him with a finger to his mouth.

“Just listen. We have to go to a facility to be treated,” he explains gently. “Not...not the hospital, but a special place where they...they’ll help us and let us be together during treatment. It’s in our best interest, and I need you to understand that. Do you?”

Treatment? All of them?

“For what?” He’d just had a concussion, hadn’t he? His leg had been injured, but he’s standing, isn't he? Why would he need treatment?

“Our health, Leo,” Jim says simply.

He can see in Jim’s eyes that he isn’t going to give him the real answer. He also isn’t going to back down about the facility. But if Jim is there, if he promises that…whatever it is that he needs treatment for, it would be bearable.

“You’ll be there?” he asks to make sure.

He won’t do it, not if it’s without Jim.

Jim’s eyes fill with warmth and reassurance. “Yes, I’ll be there. You’ll be with me. Always with me,” Jim continues in a calming voice. “Joanna will be coming with us, too. You...both need this.”

His heart begins to pound. His daughter. He needs to see his daughter, make sure for himself she is alive and well.

“Where’s Jo?” he asks, reluctantly pulling away from Jim’s warmth and comfort.

That question gives him the drive he needs to get to his feet. Jim keeps his arms around his waist, supporting him as he stands, but it’s him who’s supporting Jim after they do stand up.

“Donna?” Jim asks softly.

He doesn’t think that name means anything to him anymore. He opens his mouth, drawing a blank. Of its meaning and worth. He can’t push the name out like Jim had. He knows it’s important, but not as important as ‘Jo.”

Joanna means everything to him.

“Jo,” he says slowly. “Where’s Joanna?”

Jim’s brows meet in the middle. He stares at him for a moment, then moistens his lips with his tongue, a nervous gesture of his that Leonard always notices.

“She’s safe,” he finally says, his tone tender.

Leonard's brow furrows, mimicking Jim’s.

“She’s on the other side of the building,” Jim continues quickly. “Geor—,” he abruptly stops. He scratches his brow and sighs. “ _Geoffrey_ helped her out.”

Leonard scowls. He’s missing a piece of information.

“But Geoffrey is here,” he says.

He glances pointedly at the surgeon, who is sitting on the ground, knees bent and leaning on them, breathing heavily. Leonard feels a prick of concern for the man and his labored breath, but Jim draws his attention away.

“Yeah, he is,” Jim says slowly, as if he’s chewing over his answer.

His heart skips a beat, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“He came...he came when we needed him,” Jim says. “He’ll be coming, too, I think.”

An odd look crosses over Jim’s face, but Leonard can read him well enough after all these years to know he shouldn’t inquire about it. He wants to, but that same expression usually came when reminders of Jim’s past popped up that he wished to avoid talking about.

“We’re going straight there, aren’t we? This facility?” he asks instead.

It doesn't matter to him one way or another. His old life is in tatters.

“Yeah, we are,” Jim says quietly, eyes searching his face.

“What...happened?” he asks as he stares back down at his hands.

It doesn’t make sense, but his knuckles are cracked and bloodied. He lifts them up to his face, inspecting the cracks filling with blood, seeping with his blood.

Someone else’s?

Or...just his. He grimaces, the fiery sting he feels in his hands is finally kicking in. They’ll be fine, once he cleans them and wraps them. He’s suffered worse. On the other hand, Jim still has numb fingers. Numb fingers are worse, as is being once-dead and the haggard, anxious expression on his lover’s face.

“What happened, Jim?” he asks, looking away from his mangled hands, staring wide-eyed at him. “Are you alright?”

“Leo, we...we can’t talk about it now,” Jim rasps, sitting back down on the ground, and on his haunches.

He wipes his brow and offers him a tremulous smile.

The tremulous and forced smile wakes him up. As Jim bows his head, slowly inhaling as if it’s the last breath he’s taking, Leonard feels a prick of fear.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” he says adamantly. Jim’s eyes widen as he stares up at him, as if it’s taking too much effort. “You have that damn drug in your system, Jim. You carried...Wilson,” he says, growing angrier with every word he utters.

“Leo,” Jim whispers. “It’s..I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. We have to get you to a hospital.” He glances around and sees Archer talking on a walkie-talkie, Shadow standing beside him with a defiant look on her face, handcuffed.

He frowns.

“Don’t talk to her, Leo,” Jim warns him quietly. “Please.”

He takes a breath and glances down at Jim. “Why?”

“Just...don’t,” Jim pleads with those baby blues, the expression that always had him tied around Jim’s fingers. “Don’t listen to anything she says, either.”

His brow furrowing, he nods. He hopes that a team will be arriving soon, the one that should’ve been here minutes ago. “You need to go to the hos—”

“Facility,” Jim interrupts, his eyes closing heavily. “Facility…” His voice trails off in weariness.

“Facility, then,” he repeats, turning on his heel. “Jim, I’ll be right back. Stay on the ground,” he adds, though Jim clearly won’t be able to get to his feet, anyway.

The three other men turn and watch him approach. He ignores Shadow, like Jim told him to. It’s strange - she’s someone he usually can’t ignore. However, his gut tells him to listen to Jim. So he will.

“When will the team arrive?” he asks, glancing twice at Geoffrey.

“Anytime,” Archer says calmly.

Geoff gets to his feet and averts his gaze, half of his mask now off. Or melted. Leonard narrows his eyes on him, unapologetically inspecting his face.

Which was smashed to bits, to put it bluntly.

Right eye swollen. Already bruised. Smudges along his forehead, maybe from the fire. Loose skin bleeding. It's horrific. But not untreatable.

Had _he_ done that?

The memory, if so, is lost to him. But why would he hurt Geoff in the first place?

“You coming out now?” he asks, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Helluva time.”

“I am,” Geoff says with a deep breath. He holds out his hand. “George.”

“George,” Leonard repeats with a nod, gripping his hand.

He pauses and narrows his eyes. George?

His stature is familiar, the way he holds his head, and even speaks. But he’d never had these mannerisms before. Never. Not when he’d been Geoff.

George?

George licks his lips. “Kirk,” he adds quietly.

Hell, no.

He drops his hand like it’s on fire and looks into those eyes—

That are now a blue similar to his son’s—

Like Jim’s—

Like the eyes of the man whose father had died when he was born.

Anger rises in his chest until all he can see are the years of heartache Jim endured because his father had been absent. _Dead_.

He steps up to him in disbelief. “I’m glad you’re alive. I am,” he says. “For Jim’s sake, for his future after this catastrophe.” He pauses, exhaling slowly as he tries to gather his thoughts. “But, all these years—”

“Leonard,” Archer interrupts.

He ignores him and glares at George, who has the audacity to look remorseful. “—all these years?”

George sighs. “I know it looks—and sounds—like I have been avoiding Jim.” He looks at him sadly. “But I haven’t.”

“I don’t give a damn what your excuse is,” he says hoarsely. “You’re alive. You’re _alive_.”

“I know,” George says quietly.

He steps up to him, invading his space with a low growl that comes out of nowhere. “He’s been betrayed by the only other father he’s known. He spent years being on the streets, years of foster—”

“Leo...not now,” Jim whispers.

“Of foster...” He begins again, his right eye feeling twitchy. “Of…”

“Leo, no.”

Jim’s weary voice stops him the second time.

He blinks in quick succession, his right eye rapidly twitching, annoying the hell out of him. Everyone—even Shadow—stares at the tic. At _him_.

“That shouldn’t be happening,” Shadow whispers. “It’s impossible.”

He wants to ask what she means, but taking Jim’s warning to heart, Leonard bites back his questions.

Archer’s expression floods with the concern one would expect from a familial member. A grandfather. Not an FBI director. Leonard sucks in a sharp breath, more confused than he was before. He does what he feels is the only thing he can do, and glances at Shadow, not missing the look Archer then gives her at the same time. She purses her lips, as if refusing to speak. His gaze darts between the two, forgetting that Jim’s eyes are upon him.

“Leonard,” Archer says softly. “It might be best if you go back to Jim for now. He looks like he’s going to pass out. He needs you.”

Bewildered at the attention, at Shadow’s continued silence, he takes a step back from George. His eye twitches again, and he has to grind his teeth together. He would not put his hands up to his face. Not here.

It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense. Why does he feel incredibly obligated to stop when he feels as much obligation to demand answers from Jim’s father?

“Leo,” Jim says hoarsely behind him.

A one-word plea to come to him that he feels compelled to listen to.

He blinks again—or is it just his right eye that twitches? He can’t tell and takes another step back from George, his body compelled to put more distance between George Kirk and himself. And a lot less between himself and Jim.

“Dammit,” he says, having to put his hand to his eye this time.

He grimaces, his eye pumping involuntarily even under the weight of his hand.

“It’s just a tic,” George says, stepping towards him.

“I know what it is,” he grits out, fear coursing through him that he, indeed, does not.

“Do you?” George says softly. “Leonard, there are things we need to tell you.”

“You’re right,” he says, nodding. “There are. I want to know why you decided to present yourself to Jim, _now_?”

“You,” George says simply.

Leonard looks quizzically at him.

“I had to, because of you, the events that took place as soon as you escaped the building,” George says.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” he says gently, much like Jim would have had he been standing in front of him and not Jim’s father. “We have a lot of explaining to do. I have a lot to explain.”

“A lot?” He chuckles dryly. “You have a lifetime of excuses to come up with, including some for why you kept your identity hidden from all of us, all while working with me at the hospital. Was it to get close?” he asks, hoping to draw attention away from his eye tic. “Using me to get close to Jim, thinking that if you were, it’d make everything alright?”

“Please,” George says, expression guarded. “For Jim’s sake, let’s not get into this here.”

He knows better than to argue with that, and he’s chagrined that he forgot to consider Jim’s feelings. He should’ve thought of that. But this is far from over.

“We’re not finished,” he says vehemently.

George looks past him to Jim. “No, I imagine...we’re not,” he replies, voice strained. “And...I don't blame you for your anger at me, McCoy. I deserve it. Some of it. Most of it.”

“Dad?”

His anger melts away at the hesitant, feminine voice of his daughter. He spins fast on his heel, and the mere sight of her overwhelms him. She looks as worn as George and Jim put together. She looks beautiful and so very young.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers.

She runs to him but he meets her halfway, ignoring his limp and enveloping her in his arms. One arm in a sling, she can’t embrace him, but she rests her head against his chest. Her body warms him, her head right at his heart, reminding him that she’d been the center of his life all this time. And now, Jim was at the center, too.

He could have lost both of them, both gone before they'd lived a full, happy life like they deserve. The guilt and relief combined is almost too strong to bear. Unbidden tears slip off his face and into her hair. He wants to hold her forever, take back the pain he had caused her in all of this.

“You’re safe,” is all he trusts himself to say. His breath catches at the end, a sob also catching in his throat. “Darlin’, you’re safe.”

“Geoff helped me,” she murmurs. “He’s George.”

He swallows hard, forcing his emotions under control. “Jim’s father,” he adds in a rasping voice. He pulls away and, cupping her face with his hands, says, “He told you? Before he came to this side?”

She nods.

He doesn’t know what to think of that, other than that perhaps he’d told her to make her stay put for a while. He brings her close again, her head nestled against his chest once more.

“I bargained with him,” she says, confirming his guess, her words muffled. “I said I'd stay on the other side for awhile if he told me who he was.”

His chuckle rumbles from within his chest, and he squeezes her tightly. “That’s my girl,” he whispers. “And here you are, breaking your side of the bargain.”

“I did wait,” she whispered back, “but I needed to see you. I...I couldn’t stay there, Dad. Not when you were over here.”

“We have to go,” he stops, swallowing, wishing he didn’t feel a fresh trepidation about the idea. “To a facility.”

He thinks now that they’re going because of him. This tic. They are all concerned. Even Shadow, in her handcuffed state.

“I know,” she says, a sob breaking up her words. “I know, but I want...to go home. I want a home.”

Unease stirs in his gut, the pain behind her confession breaking his heart. Where was home? Joanna doesn't know. He doesn’t think even he knows anymore. It can’t be the house they’d lived in with Jocelyn. It can’t be with the FBI.

He and Jo were wanderers. Always had been, in a way. Even before life with Jocelyn.

“No more of this, Joanna,” he whispers to her and her only. “No more. I promise.”

She inhales a breath. “Don’t make…me promise. She got away. I’m almost twe—”

“Eighteen,” he interrupts absently. “An adult. Almost, Jo, baby.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she says after a lengthy pause. “Almost.”

 

oOo

 

The medical team arrives while Leonard is talking with his sister. Jim had tried not to listen to their conversation, but he’d been too close for comfort. From the little he’d overheard, it appears that Leonard still considers Donna to be his daughter, Joanna.

“Assistant Special Agent in Charge, we are ready if you are,” the medic says with a nod to Jim.

He almost makes a face at the lengthy title. It’s too formal, and it certainly is not the job he’d even dreamed of having when he had dreamt of another life.

Sighing, he nods, resigned to the fact that he’d be transported as a medical patient whether he likes it or not. He detest the stretcher the medics set parallel to him on the ground, but allows himself to placed on it, two medics deftly transferring him. There was no way he’d get to the vehicle on his own two feet, and he didn’t want anyone carrying him.

His stomach rolls as they lift him up, leaving him suddenly breathless. He grunts, the light-headedness attacking him again when the stretcher moves.

“Leo,” he groans, keenly aware he was moaning like a small child.

“I'm right here,” Leonard says, tightly grasping his hand. “Thought you liked roller coasters.”

“When I’m at the top of a hill, I am expecting a thrill…” Jim blinks furiously. “Didn’t mean for that to rhyme.”

“I hope not. If so, it was a bad joke.” Leonard peruses his entire body, a scowl forming on his face. “You need more fluids, Jim. Electrolytes. Why didn’t you get any in the compound?”

Jim groans again. “The world keeps moving,” he mumbles.

“You’re dehydrated,” Leonard mutters. “Why didn’t he do something for you?”

The ‘he’ is obviously his agent-turned-surgeon, now living and breathing father.

Could his life get any stranger?

“‘Geoff’...had his hands full,” Jim says, defending his father. “And it was hard to sneak something like intravenous fluids around.”

Nonetheless, he can’t call him Dad. Not yet. There’s too much in the way for that.

Leonard frowns.

“Special Agent McCoy,” a medic from behind Leonard states.

Leonard sighs and shakes his head. “I can walk.”

“I’m afraid I can't allow that, sir,” the medic says apologetically.

Leonard sets his jaw, staring down at Jim with a sour expression. “The hell I’m leaving you.”

Jim glances up at the medic. “Let it go, for now?” he asks quietly. “It might...be best.”

The medic backs away, but it’s clear that they’re uneasy with Leonard walking free, especially with his eye twitching periodically.

Leonard's shoulders drop, the tension Jim hated seeing on his face abating as they moved forward to the vehicle. Once at the vehicle, Leonard sits next to Jim, Joanna next to Leonard, followed by George.

Jim is the only one on his back and on a stretcher, and he’d be lying if he said he didn't feel self-conscious about that fact. Especially as George could not tear his eyes away from him.

“Someday I hope you'll forgive me, Jim,” George says.

“I’ll start with being able to identify you as my father,” he says, each word as crisp and concise as he can make it, despite his worn out body. He has to admit this mission probably set him back a few weeks. Maybe more.

His reply is the first indication that he’s given about how he really feels about the matter that is his ghostly father returning. Not that he’s even sure what he thinks, only that his life appears to be taking a different turn and why shouldn't he try to make amends with this absent father. George had said he had an excuse, and Jim has to admit that it’s possible.

Leonard glances sharply at him, eyes calculating as if he didn't know where he was going with that statement. Resentment, or forgiveness?

“And when that happens,” Jim takes a breath, “Know that I’ll probably have already forgiven you.”

George’s eyes widen with surprise.

Satisfied that something he’d said had some shock value—especially after being shocked by his father—he closes his eyes, letting his father read into that as much as he likes. He even surprised himself for the carefree way he’d spoken, but he’s had enough of secrets. Enough pain to last him a lifetime. If he could stop that pattern now, he can’t help but believe that things would be better for him and Leo.

Leonard folds his hand around his, and he lets himself relax into the thin mattress pad beneath him.

He wants the reassurance that Leonard isn’t going to leave him after he learns the truth. He squeezes his lover’s hand as tightly as he can, numb fingers and all.

Leonard squeezes back right before he falls asleep.

 

oOo

 

 

He wakes up in a room he assumes is in the facility Archer told him about, one that is run far differently than any other FBI medical facility. Built to support the vast number of cases and patients coming from black ops and deep undercover assignments, it has better security, better doctors and nurses, better ways of doing things.

That Leonard is in his room, sitting beside his bed and looking at him with sad eyes, one of which is bruised, says it all. They aren’t going to separate them. Even after Leo knows the truth, which looks to be the case.

“It’s not a tic,” is the first thing out of Leonard's mouth.

Jim begs to differ.

“It’s pretty much a tic, Leo,” he counters softly. “A crack...in the programming.”

“It’s a damn annoyance, that’s what it is,” Leonard's irritated tone matching his expression. “Do you realize it wouldn’t stop, even after three hours? It finally stopped after I apologized to your father for punching him.”

Jim snorts.

“You’ve been sleeping for eight hours, by the way,” Leo says roughly.

Jim winces. “I’m sorry.”

“You needed your sleep.”

“No, about the twitching.”

Leonard shakes his head. “I’ve...suffered worse. When you died, Jim, that was as low as I thought I could go.” He pauses and stands with a long-suffering sigh. “And then I discovered it was Pike who killed you. Then I was framed for your murder, and a few days later, discovered you were alive….that was as low as I thought I could go. But then I came here.” His eyes water. “To this place,” he finishes hoarsely.

He averts his gaze, scuffing his toe into the floor like a kid. Jim doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he can say that would make this better. He knows that. Leonard knows it, too. A bandaid wouldn’t cover even the smallest of their wounds, a lifetime of therapy wouldn’t ease any of their pain. No matter what they did here, they'd walk out with still-healing battle wounds and scars. Lots of them.

Leonard rubs his eyes, blowing out a sigh. Jim looks closer at him, suspicious that he hadn't slept at all since arriving.

“I was wrong again. This is as low as I can go.” Leonard gives a dry laugh and finally looks at him.

Jim swallows the million lumps in his throat, wishing he’d been awake so that he could have supported him. Sat beside him while he faced challenging questions and submitted himself to their tests. Or waited outside the damn door. Something other than burrowing under covers, oblivious to it all.

“You’ve had your consult?” he asks hesitantly.

He understands the reasoning behind ‘not wanting to waste time’ when it comes to a programmed agent who was showing signs of breaking down. But he wishes they’d waited. He is Leonard’s handler, after all. What if something had gone wrong, and he’d been out of it, simply sleeping, for God’s sakes?

“The initial one,” Leonard says quietly. “The next one will be with you. As soon as you are able.”

Knowing exactly what that meant, what would be expected from them both, Jim involuntarily shivers.

“Dammit, Jim,” Leonard cries, running his hands through his hair as he turned his back. “This isn’t what I want for us. It isn’t. I don't even know why I chose the programming. Shadow told you that I’d believed in her work, but how can we really trust her that that’s true?”

“We can’t.”

“Exactly. And how do we trust me to find the right answers?”

They couldn’t do that, either. Not really. Not unless...

“Did you...write yourself a note about it?” Jim wonders aloud.

“How the hell would I know?” Leonard asks exasperatedly.

“Good point. Maybe George knows,” he says hastily.

Leonard spins on his heel. “Shadow,” he says coldly, narrowing his eyes on Jim.

Jim’s eyes widen, Leonard’s suddenly cool state frightening despite the fact it wasn't directed at him.

“You’re not going to ask her anything, let alone say hello,” he says, equally adamant. “I didn’t give you clearance, anyway.”

He’d made sure of that before they’d arrived at the facility, thinking on his knees in the grass outside the compound when Leonard had been in his arms. Archer had agreed, but ultimately the decision was left up to Jim. And he had decided, alright. No one would allow Leonard access to the holding room, and if they did, Jim had every right to suspend them.

Leonard scowls. “Besides not liking the fact that you can do that, Jim, I have to say...this position suits you. You’re one of the big guys, now.”

Jim smiles. “I love you, too.”

Leonard huffs a breath. “I can’t be mad at you, you know.”

Jim nods. Leo never could stay mad at Jim for too long, and he doubts that this experience and all its ramifications would change that. In fact, it could possibly reinforce those feelings.

He finds the use of programming distasteful in general. For all that the programming had affected, his relationship with Leonard is at the center of it all.

“For a lot of reasons,” Leonard adds sullenly.

Jim pats the empty spot beside him on the bed, scooting over to make room for him. “Can we talk about you and...Jo?”

Leonard slips onto the bed, Jim’s arm under his neck as he pulled him close. He embraces Leonard with the other, the comfort of his body pressed against his own an anodyne for his soul that the doctors here didn’t have.

“Yeah,” Leonard says roughly.

“Does she know about the programming?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Leo?”

“She’s refused to see me, and Uhura’s been spending time with her,” Leonard says, his expression wounded. “I didn't know if she’d blamed herself, maybe, and it turns out, she does, though I don’t know why.”

Jim knew. Every single action Leo had made over the years had been for her benefit. Maybe he wanted to save those agents, or maybe he saw those agents as a threat to their own lives and secrecy.

“She’ll come around,” he says, his hand coming up to stroke his forehead. He stops mid-stroke. “How’s your head?”

“Better, except that I’m bald,” Leonard grouses.

Jim smiles again and gives a noncommittal hum. “Have you ever seen Agent Archman’s newest look? He works at the same office I do. I mean, did.”

An accidental haircut had left an interesting mohawk on the agent, but one that, if cut, would be worse. The bald look doesn't flatter the man at all.

Leonard snorts. “You got me there. I have it made. At least with mine, I get sympathy. His makes other agents cry at the mere sight of him.”

“It'll grow back quickly,” Jim says and kissed the top of his head. “Then you'll be as good as new. I might fall asleep again,” he adds, yawning.

“Not yet,” Leonard says softly. “Spock was here earlier but he'll come back tomorrow. George, however, wants to speak with you.”

“Don’t tell me.” Jim groans. “He’s waiting outside the door.”

“Won’t go home, won’t do anything. Not until he speaks with you.”

Jim sighs. He should’ve known his father would be stubborn like this. It’s exactly what Jim would do in his shoes.

Leonard slips out from his arms and stands beside him, his hand now stroking Jim’s forehead, instead.

“Jim, you don’t have to talk with him yet,” Leonard advises. “In my professional opinion, it’s a little early. Besides, you have to be hungry.”

His brow suddenly creases as if he’s in the midst of a deep struggle.

“Leo?”

His hand stills at Jim’s temple. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened to me,” he demands. “Don't you dare feel guilty for initializing me during our ‘sessions.’ You have a job to do, and so do I. And we’ll do it. We’ll get it done. Together.”

“Ordering you to listen to me, Leo?” Jim says hoarsely, averting his gaze. “It killed me.”

“If I could take it back…” Leonard’s voice diminishes into nothing.

“We can only move forward,” Jim says, not wanting Leo to torture himself like that. “And if it doesn't work, I will not leave your side. I promise.”

“And what kind of life would that be for you? If it doesn't work?” he replies woodenly. “Each week, winding me up like a musical doll, toying with my strings like a puppeteer? The resentment you’d begin to have towards me, the hate I’d have for myself that I was the cause of your misery. It might be better just to give someone el—”

“No,” Jim cuts him off with a snap. “No,” he repeats in a softer tone. “I won't let anyone else have this job. _I'm_ your handler, Leo. You and I...our connection is breaking down the programming. I know it is.”

Leonard looks at him quietly. “Okay. I believe you,” he relents. “You’ve never failed a mission or an assignment before, and you won’t start now. I won’t let you fuck up an impeccable record.”

“I hate this,” Jim says, looking up at the ceiling.

“Before I forget, Pike’s condition is critical. It’s been touch and go, but they think he’ll make it. At least he'll face trial,” Leonard mutters darkly, drawing Jim’s attention back to him.

“Bones,” Jim whispers.

Leonard takes a sharp breath. “Don’t say it. We will not fail. The more we work together, the quicker we can put this behind us and you can actually recuperate and face what is ahead, even a trial.”

Jim smiles to himself. Despite all that Leonard’s endured, his spirit hasn’t been broken. He’s essentially still the Bones he knows and loves. A doctor. A healer.

“It’s not going to be that easy, Leo,” he says, glancing sideways at him. “You know that, right? Your life is in my hands.”

“I trust you,” Leonard says simply. He bends down and kisses him on the lips. When he pulls away, a resolute expression crosses his face. “And my life has always been in your hands.”

Heart warmed by that thought, Jim’s eyes close in contented weariness.

Leonard sighs. “You do need your sleep, but you two need to talk. I better let him in. But I’ll be back with a tray of food, in case you feel up to eating.”

“Thanks,” he says, offering a wan smile. “Wait—”

Leo hesitates. “Yeah?”

“Have _you_ forgiven my father?”

He sighs again. “I knew you were going to ask me that. I...will do whatever I need to do to protect you, and if that means...going along with how you feel, giving him a chance then so be it.”

It’s not exactly an answer to his question, but he’ll take it. “Thank you,” Jim murmurs.

He opens his eyes a few seconds later. Leonard is gone, the door closed, and the figure of his father is looming over his bed.

“I'm so very proud of you,” George says.

He can’t speak, doesn’t want the hurt to come that accompanies questions like the ones he knows he has to ask.

“Mind if I sit down?” George asks quietly.

Jim rubs his eyes before he thinks twice.

“I shouldn’t be bothering you,” his father murmurs. “I apologize—”

“No,” he blurts out, panicked when he turns to leave. “It’s fine.”

George’s brows rise.

Jim looks at him sheepishly. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep at the wheel.”

Despite the healing wounds on his face, his swollen cheek and eye, his father’s lips twitch at the corners. “Alright.”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“I wanted to first tell you about Leonard and his sister,” his father says, breaking the ice.

“His daughter, you mean,” Jim replies, already seeing it in his eyes.

“Yes. His daughter. It's been decided that it's best to let that be,” George says softly.

Jim blinks several times. He'd had a gut feeling that would be the case. Still, it was shocking to hear it blatantly announced. He’s never heard of conditioning so deep that it had affected an undercover agent in such a life-altering manner. A lifestyle change. A change to their very psyche.

Yet, here he is, in the thick of it.

He sighs heavily. “And Jo? How does she feel about it?” he asks, thinking of her intelligence and resilience. “She’s not as deeply conditioned.”

“No, but we’ve found that it’s more comfortable for her, too, though she is adamant she's twenty-two and Leonard still believes her to be nearly eighteen.” George winces. “For the time being, she understands she has to be careful around her father about her age from now on.”

“That's a lot of ask of a spirited young woman,” Jim says quietly.

“Yes, but we can't risk the health of an agent who has undergone this type of trauma,” George states. “And she is an agent. She understands the sacrifice.”

“We have to inform the team of this change,” Jim says quietly.

George nods. “As the Special Agent in Charge of our field office, I've already taken care of it.”

Jim’s eyes widen. That meant he technically working directly under his father. He isn't too sure how he feels about that.

George offers him a small but warm smile. “There’s been some...immediate changes in the office since Shadow’s arrest.”

Jim furrows his brow, nodding in reply. As was becoming a bad habit, he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

“We already sent out a memo regarding the situation to those persons who are directly involved with the McCoys’ recuperation as well as to members of your team,” George continues. “We will all have to support the decision that Leonard’s physicians and therapists have made.”

“It's bad, isn't it?” Jim asks somberly. “Leonard? His mental state?”

“Leonard’s mental health truly is at stake, Jim. The conditioning he’s endured won’t allow him to think differently. Reversing their relationship will only exacerbate the programming. A mutual effort on our parts will make this adjustment out of undercover life as smooth as possible for them.” He looks at him, smile tight. “From now on, Joanna is Leonard's daughter. Inside the walls of the FBI and outside of them. End of story.”

Jim can’t speak for a moment. When he finally finds his voice, he says, “It’s the best decision, and I’ll do whatever I can for him.”

“I know,” his father says, nodding. “You're good for each other, Jim. Leonard said nearly the same thing about your fingers. He's anxious to see what a team of surgeons can do for you. Do you have more feeling in them?”

“No, not really,” Jim says, fighting a grimace. “Why did you stay away so long,” he whispers suddenly. “Why?”

“I can explain another day, if you’d like,” his father says after a pause, meeting his eyes.

“No,” Jim says decisively. “Now would be good.”

Waiting won't help the knot growing in his gut. He wants answers.

George observes him cautiously. “If you're sure.”

“I am.”

“Shadow and another agent rescued me from the explosion,” he begins easily, like he's explained this before. Practiced it to himself, maybe even in the mirror, all these years. “I should’ve died, but she gave me the signal to abort the mission on a mere hunch. Turns out she was right. It wasn’t the so-called suicide bomber who had the bomb, the real bomb, but the very platform I was standing on. I almost made it.”

Jim bites his lower lip, processing this information. “You were set-up.”

George nods. “Yes. As a result, I was in a coma for six months and when I woke up…” He pauses, glancing at him sideways. “I suffered from debilitating injuries for more than five years, those of which required multiple surgeries, including an injury to my spine. I was incapable of taking care of myself, let alone a small child, Jim. I also suffered from amnesia, which lasted….”

Jim’s heart thuds in his ears when his father just stops, staring off into space.

“How long?” Jim asks, prodding him back to attention.

George gives a dark chuckle. “Long enough for me to realize I had to decide on a new profession.”

Jim swallows, wanting a real answer. “One year? Ten?”

“More than ten.” George grimaces. “Twenty years.”

Jim stares back at him in disbelief.

“It can happen, Jim,” George says, jaw clenched. “And it happened to me, long enough for me to realize that I wanted to become a doctor to help people, people like me.”

“A surgeon,” Jim says numbly. He had actually become a surgeon.

“Yes, a surgeon,” George says, briefly averting his eyes. “During that time, Shadow understood that I was not the same man and that I could not come back, not if Pike really wanted me dead. She helped hide me from the world. I didn't recall any of the skills I’d acquired over the years as an agent. The names of the people I had worked with. None of my past assignments. I couldn’t fire a gun, let alone load one. I’d be a sitting duck.” He sucks in a breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “And if I were a sitting duck, my family would be, too. An easy target. It was better for me to out of the picture, or so I’d thought,” he said hoarsely. “So Pike couldn't use them—you—to get to me. I was already dead.”

“You obviously told Archer later on. But you couldn’t have afforded to tell even Mom?” Jim asks, nausea swirling in his gut.

Has his father even broken the news to her yet?

Jim has the horrid thought that she won’t even care. Like she doesn't care about her own sons.

Maybe he should suggest to his father that he hang low for awhile. Let him down easily.

“Risk her life? Your brother’s? Yours?” He shakes his head. “No. She’d wanted to divorce me, anyway. Served me papers before you were born, but I never signed them. Didn’t want you to come into the world like that. I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd let that happen.”

Tears prick the backs of his eyes. His mother certainly hadn’t minded.

He doesn’t feel guilty for not even calling her at Christmas now.

“And then, by the time my memory returned, rushing back when I wiped out on the pavement on my bike, you were grown, Jim.” His father’s eyes fill with guilt. “And Pike and Number One had offered their home and love to you. I didn’t want to take that away from you, especially if there was a chance we—”

“You and Shadow?” Jim asks tersely.

“Yes.” George nods. “If there was a chance that we were wrong about Chris. He seemed to have truly loved you.”

If that had been true about Pike, then what the fuck had happened?

Jim turns his head and clenches his eyes shut, tears barely held at bay. His emotions assaulted him like a storm rolling in, but he held them back with a trick he’d learned a long time ago.

Anger. At anyone who fell in his line of fire. This time, almost everyone was in that line.

Pulling himself together, he decides he wants him to explain another mystery. Maybe even the most important one.

Imposter Geoff.

“And then...that’s when you became Impo—I mean, Geoff,” Jim says thickly, emotion stuck in his throat. “To become close to Leonard…”

He can’t finish, a wave of fatigue hitting him. He closes his eyes, listening as his father explains what could possible make or break his future with him.

“It was selfish,” his father whispers. “Deceitful, to you, and maybe more so to Leonard. I know that now. But it was the only way I could get close to you, Jim. The only way, without risking my life or yours. And, I was able to become friends with Leonard while he endured his assignment as Jocelyn’s boyfriend, living under the same roof as her. The abuse. Everything. Shadow had explained that mission quite thoroughly to me so I could help in anyway that I could.”

“Friends,” Jim repeats ruefully.

Friends with Leonard. But what about ‘Father’ to him?

Nonetheless, Leonard had been right. George had become friends with him, to be close to Jim. Both of the Geoffs had been friends with Leo, though he hadn't known there were two.

He opens his eyes to find his father staring hard at him.

“I want you know, Jim, that I never liked it,” he says tightly, eyes flashing. “Leonard and Jocelyn. I had a bad feeling about his assignment the instant I knew about it, and, no, I never knew about the programming until the very day we extracted Leonard and his daughter from the compound. Minutes before you and Leonard escaped, when Shadow warned me of part of her plan.”

“I believe you,” Jim says, taken aback by his earnestness.

“I did what I could in the position I was in, and Director Archer assisted me. I kept that job at the hospital in order to watch out for Leonard—the man you loved—the only way I knew how to,” his father continues in a softer tone. “And believe me when I say there were times I diverted Jocelyn’s attentions on him by simply diverting her well-placed spies around the hospital. Once, I saved him from poison that was supposed to have crippled him with nausea for a week for mere sport.”

Jim’s heart aches too much for him to express the gratitude he assumes he should feel. He says nothing for a moment and looks down at his hands.

“Did she have to retrain you? Number One?” he finally asks, turning the conversation to a different, a less painful path. “Even though your memory had returned?”

The ensuing silenced thickening between them, and the idea flashing through his mind that he said something wrong, he glanced up hesitantly. “Did...I ask...too much?”

George shakes his head. “No, I just got lost in my thoughts.” He sighed. “She did help me,” was all the explanation he gave him.

Jim welcomes the brief silence that follows. He can’t say if George had done the right or wrong thing, because he’d never walked in his shoes. If he thought about it long enough, he knows he would come to the same conclusions that his father had. Staying away to keep his family safe. Disguising himself to help the man his son loves. Keeping himself alive with the hope that someday, he could come out of hiding.

But, he can never deny that circumstances—and the devious plans of others—had prevented their lives from intersecting again like they should have. Thereby, causing a painful series of events in both of their lives. Choices made. Hard choices.

“Were you alone, all that time?” Jim asked his father, his body sinking into the bed.

He sighs before his father can answer, his brain too sluggish to compute more information. But for some unknown reason, he doesn't like the thought of his father having been alone all these years. Injured. Not remembering his past. Trying to pave a new life for himself, all while protecting his family in the old one that he didn’t even remember.

It doesn't seem right, and it makes Jim feel worse that he cares so much. He shouldn’t care so much, should he?

“When?” his dad asks softly.

“Right after...the bomb?” Jim clarifies groggily.

“I had a few friends at the medical facility I was at, thanks to Number One.”

Jim yawns, his head lolling to the side, his eyes finally closing and staying shut.

“I think that’s enough for today,” his father murmurs. “I know it's too soon to ask you for forgiveness again, now that you understand where I've been. So I won't.”

He rests his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

Jim can't breathe.

“I can’t,” he whispers, turning on his side. “Please.”

The hand falls away.

He curls himself into a ball, pushing aside all that his father had just told him, trying to find a safe haven in his head.

If there was any such place left.

“I just...can’t,” he says hoarsely, squeezing his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill over.

He thinks his father understands.

“I know, Son,” is all he says. “And for that very reason, I won’t be far away.”

 

oOo

 

_Two days later..._

Leonard’s nerves are on end. It's their first session, and because he is still recuperating and tires easily, Jim comes to the room in a wheelchair.

He hates that he has to put Jim through this when he hardly has the physical strength to endure it, and wishes, somehow, that he could start over. If he could, he’d have quit the FBI a long time ago. Cut his losses. Accepted what he’d been given in this life.

Jim. A daughter. Two people who meant the world to him.

His own actions and decisions were still hurting them. Could he ever forgive himself for that?

“Here’s your medication and fluids, Special Agent McCoy,” a nurse says, placing two pills and glass of water in front of Leonard on the table.

He snaps out of his reverie and picks up the glass, gulping the water down before Jim is finished signing the last-minute, required paperwork for this session—and each subsequent one. He’d already signed his a day ago, too antsy to do anything else.

When Jim sets down the pen, he glances up, eyes filled with questions. They both ignore, yet are aware of, Archer, two neurotechs, and two security guards standing right outside the room, looking in. This is a controlled, more natural setting, without outside influence.

He nods his head to encourage him. “It’s your job,” he reminds him quietly.

Jim blinks and licks his lips. “You’re the man I love.”

Leonard briefly closes his eyes. “Let’s do this together, then.”

“One,” Jim states firmly. “One…”

Leonard’s eye twitches. “Dammit,” he breathes. “That's the command?”

Something to deal with Number One, herself? Fitting and devious and—

Jim sits up straighter, eyes darkening, “One. One. Delta—”

His chest feels like it’s like imploding, his mind taking him to a dark place where there is no light.

Is he dying? He has to be.

“Ungh,” he groans, wanting him to stop. “S-s-stop…” he pleads. “J-Jim.”

“—Ostrich,” Jim says shakily. “November. November. Alpha. One.”

He clutches his skull with both his hands. He wants to mash it together with his own hands. Like a pumpkin. A melon. A bottle of soda.

Get rid of the miserable mass and matter within its frail structure forever.

“One. One. One….”

“Jim,” he whines, the thought of his Jim disappearing too difficult to fathom.

“...One. Delta. Ostrich. November…”

His right eye twitches. He viciously rubs at it. It should be off of his face where it can't bother him anymore.

“...November. Alpha. One.”

He whines again, wanting him to stop but incapable of asking.

“One. One. One. One,” Jim begins again in an even, calm voice. “Delta. Ostrich. November. November. Alpha. One.

The words now begin to soothe him. He recognizes a name within them, though the name doesn’t mean as much as it once had. Breathless, he lowers his arms, head slightly cocked, ears tuned to listen to Jim’s voice.

“One. One. One. One. Delta. Ostrich…”

He instinctively knows that he has to let go and let the voice do this. Control him. He trusts Jim. He had asked Leonard to trust him. Hadn't he?

“November. November…”

His thoughts of this life float away, pulled by that voice and replaced with new ones.

“...Alpha. One.”

There is silence.

Leonard’s eye twitches as he recognizes his handler. His lover out there but commander in here.

His lover out there but commander in here, he repeats to himself.

Leonard immediately corrects his posture and stares straight ahead.

He waits for orders, but his handler is silent. Instead of speaking an order as he is accustomed to hearing, tears fill his handler’s eyes. One slips down his right cheek.

Leonard’s right eyes twitches.

“Leo…”

It twitches again.

“Do you know me?” his handler asks.

A vision of his handler's face beside him as they lie together on a couch flashes in his mind.

He smiles.

Jim. His Jim. Happy. Without tears. Warm next to him.

His handler sucks in a breath. “Special Agent McCoy, do you know who I am?”

“Jim, sir,” he says. He thinks again. “My Jim,” he adds.

He thinks he says his handler's name warmly because he likes to say it that way, and that’s what makes another tear roll down his handler’s cheek.

The vision reappears and he is soothed by it. He wants it. Wants it so badly he sighs and says so.

“I want it,” he says.

His handler sits up in his chair, also leaning towards him. “What do you want, Special Agent McCoy?” his handler asks.

“I want it,” he breathes again.

He wants Jim. In that other life. If he obeys orders, will they give it him?

“What do you want, Special Agent McCoy?” his handler repeats softly.

“I want it,” he whispers.

“Special Agent McCoy, tell me,” his handler says, much gentler than his former handler, he thinks. “ _What_ do you want?”

But his thoughts stop.

He is in want of nothing.

He is silent and waits for orders.

 

oOo

 

_Four days later…_

George barrels his way through the crowded hallway and rushes through the doors of one of the medical rooms. He stops in his tracks when he sees Jim in his wheelchair, sitting beside Leonard McCoy, who is sleeping with at least a dozen lines entering his body. Worry stirs for his son, whose eyes are bloodshot and face wet with tears, the strain of the past week etched in his features

“I came as soon as I heard,” he says quietly, standing at the foot of Leonard’s bed. “Archer called me.”

McCoy is sleeping peacefully.

He can’t help but be glad that at least one of them is at peace at this very moment. And if it could be anyone, it should be this man who loves his son, because Jim needs Leonard at peace. Healed. The man he was before...restored to him.

Jim sniffs, clinging to Leonard’s hand. “He just....passed out,” he whispers. “Before we were done. I never had time to say the proper commands to snap him out of it like I have every other day since we arrived for...therapy.”

“He remembered?”

Jim nods, wiping at his face with his free hand. “He did. He looked right at me and s-said,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath, “He...he said, ‘Darlin’, I s-see...y-y-you.’”

George holds his breath as his son begins to sob, his cries heart-wrenching sounds that fill the room, the very act of succumbing to his emotions releasing the stress of all that he’d been through.

He sets down the book he’d brought for him on the stand beside the bed, the records Shadow had kept about McCoy’s programming. A letter McCoy had penned to himself that she finally admitted that he’d written before he’d been ensnared into this project. Even a video for Joanna.

She’d told him where these items were hidden not for leniency, but for the hope that one day, George would let her in his heart again. He wasn’t certain that would ever happen. She’d caused so much pain, hurt the people he’d loved. Yet, her purposes in doing so had saved his own life. Had saved Jim’s. Had saved Leonard’s.

She was a contradictory individual, and he needed stability for once in his life. The FBI continues to offer that to him, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish for Jim to stick around, too.

He pulls up a chair beside Jim and sits down beside him. “I'm here for you, Son,” he says softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I cleared my schedule. I have nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Jim’s eyes flood with even more emotion, his vulnerability raw and unearthed by his love for Leonard McCoy.

“I need you, Dad,” he whispers brokenly. “I n-need...y-you.”

Hope for a relationship with him swells in his chest. Was he certain?

“Please,” his son implores, his eyes wide and weeping.

He needs no other urging. He pulls his grown son close and envelopes him in his arms, offering decades of comfort and strength and love combined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts - I know there was a lot packed into this one. I do hope you enjoyed the read.
> 
> One more chapter to go and then the epilogue. I do have another scene with Leonard and his sister planned, plus other scenes I will leave unsaid. ;)
> 
> I just have to say it again. I'm so sad this is nearing the end...this has been a very cathartic experience for me, one of the reasons I was able to write and post so quickly. It has meant so much that it even picked up readers. THANK YOU!
> 
>  
> 
> I hope to be back soon. But in the meantime, I'd love to hear from you before I finish this up! Your thoughts are great inspiration. :) Thank you!


	19. It's Just You and the Moon on My skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - the last chapter. I can hardly believe it. However, the epilogue will be no less important! ;D
> 
> I'm so grateful to Junker5 and Diamondblue4 for helping me with this chapter and the story as a whole, sticking with me through the craziness of it all to offer encouragement and sound, constructive criticism. You are both dears. :) *Hugs*
> 
> Thank you all for reading...I hope you enjoy this installment. :)

The familiar sound of light snoring awakens Leonard. He turns his neck but discovers it’s as stiff as the starched pants his grandmother used to hang outside to dry and will only move about twenty degrees to the left. Just enough to see he has company sitting next him, by his bed.

He peers at Jim, whose eyes are closed as he rests his head on his arms, which are folded on the bed. He's all the company that he needs, the reassurance that despite whatever had happened during the last therapy session, Jim hasn't left him.

He takes one look at Jim and knows he’s the reason for the exhaustion he sees written all over his face, even while the younger man is sleeping. Concerned that Jim should be getting better quality rest, rather than sleeping in an awkward position by his bed, he decides to wake him up. He reaches over and, mindful of the intravenous lines in his hand, strokes Jim’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

Jim’s eyes flutter open. “Hey,” he says groggily, his weary smile still blinding.

“Hey, yourself,” Leonard says, his voice not much better.

Jim suddenly sits up, looking at him with wide eyes. “You’re awake. You know me?”

Leonard quirks a brow. “Unfortunately.”

Eyes curiously sharp for how exhausted he looks, Jim clutches his hand, moving in as close as he possibly can. “Just to make sure, who am I?”

“Someone who needs to go to sleep in their own bed,” he says pointedly.

“Leo,” Jim says, frowning. “I’m serious.”

He sighs. “Fine. Jim.” He swallows down the dozen cracks he could make about Jim’s bed head and the dried drool at the corner of his mouth and squeezes his hand back. “Your name is Jim, James, James Tiberius Kirk, ‘idiot,’ and Darlin’,” he adds cheekily.

Jim smiles, beaming again. “We broke it. Part of it, anyway.”

“Broke...what?”

He nearly bounces in his seat like a kid. “You passed out before I could say the command to snap you out of it, Leo. I don’t like that you passed out, but you told me you saw me and then...that was it.” Jim freezes, staring wide-eyed at him. “Wait. Do you remember what you said?” he asks in a whisper. “What happened?”

“I don’t remember, Jim,” Leonard admits.

Jim’s face starts to fall before he catches himself. “That’s okay. It’s a start,” he continues swiftly. “A breakthrough, actually. It means all that we’ve been doing is working. We just can’t have you passing out like this again.”

“No, I’d rather not lose consciousness every time,” Leonard slowly agrees. He motions to his body and the maze of lines. “What are all of these for, exactly? How long have I been out?

Jim grows quiet, stroking the back of Leonard’s hand with his thumb.

“That long, huh?” he asks with a dry chuckle.

“Four days,” Jim says softly.

That explains how weak he feels.

“I’ll ask the nurse to give you a list of all the medications you've been given, including the intravenous solutions. They’re changed almost daily, Leo.”

Leonard can just imagine what they're giving him. Medication to alter his brain chemistry? To keep him calm? Other drugs he doesn’t even know about?

Jim looks at him warily. “And they’ve been monitoring your brain activity.”

Leonard reaches up to see what he means but Jim grasps his hand, a little awkwardly given his own predicament, the sensation still lost in his fingers.

“Just leave them,” he whispers, eyes flickering over him with worry. “Please.”

Leonard drops his hand. “Okay,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Jim takes a breath and peers at the top of his head. “They'll want to come speak with you now that you're awake,” he says, his expression guarded as he glances back down at him.

Leonard reads between the lines. “It's okay, Jim.”

The younger man’s jaw ticks once. “It’s not. You shouldn't be pushed like this. You were out for _four days_. What if the same thing happens again?”

“If it’s the only way to deprogram me, and it’s not life-threatening, then it has to be like this, darlin’,” Leonard says, hoping it hadn’t degraded his mind. Given all that he’s gone through, he’d be surprised if there wasn't some risk. “You’re strong, and I need that.”

It’s as much of an encouragement to Jim as it is a confession that brings his own anxiety out in the open. Jim’s mouth is slanted over his in an instant, signaling the younger man’s need for him. Leonard is happy to oblige and wraps his hand around Jim’s neck, holding him close, crushing his lips again his. Jim is warmth and the sun and all that is good in his life. He’s his present, his future, his everything in this world. He could taste him forever, and would have, but the monitors begin to beep wildly around them.

He pulls away reluctantly, looking sheepishly at Jim. “Guess you’re the reason my heart rate’s increasin’ and for all the racket in here.”

Jim gazes softly at him. “You know I’ll do whatever I need to do to get you through this,” he murmurs, kissing him on the cheek.

Leonard’s never doubted that Jim will do whatever is necessary to break the deprogramming, but he worries that they’ll never really know if he’s completely reconditioned, even if these commands no longer work. It’s a concern he’s not certain he should even bring up, because it would crush Jim’s hopes for their future.

He decides now is not the time to consider the worst. But the best.

“There isn't anyone I'd rather have at my side,” he whispers. “You've saved me, Jim.”

“Don't get all sappy on me,” Jim says, voice wobbling. “Had a moment with my dad. Don’t need another one.”

“Your dad?”

Jim lifted his chin while wiping his eyes. “He’s here every day when he’s not at the office. Sometimes taking my place.”

“So you two talked?” Leonard asked.

Though he was of mixed emotions on the subject of Jim’s father—how could he have stayed away all these years?—he was happy for Jim. If he could have a genuine father-son relationship with George Kirk, it would make Jim that much happier.

“Yeah,” Jim says quietly. “It’s not always easy, but I’m making the effort.”

Leonard closes his eyes. “That’s good,” he breathes out. When Jim doesn’t answer his eyes snap open. “Right?”

“Shadow told him where her records were about you, Leo,” Jim says, standing up. He wraps his arms around himself, looking at the floor. “I can’t give them to you yet,” he says, voice deepening. “They’re not easy to read. There’s a video for Joanna, too, that explains things to her. But when you’re better, they’re all yours, Leo.”

He has visions of falling into a black hole, with no escape from his dark past. The only way he can move forward is to leave some of this behind him.

“I don’t …” Leonard sucks in a sharp breath and swallows painfully. “I can’t, Jim.”

“Bones?” Jim asks confusedly.

“I...don’t want to read them.”

“You don’t? You don’t want to know why you agreed to the programming?”

“I don’t. Ever.” Leonard chuckles darkly. “Does that make me a coward?”

Their eyes meet.

“No,” Jim says in a soft voice. “I wouldn’t want to read them, either, if I were you.”

He sees no condemnation, no pity, no disgust. He sees the love that has been his lifeline since the day they’d met.

He sees Jim.

“‘Darlin’, I see you,” he murmurs, eyes widening. “That’s what I said.”

He remembers it now. He remembers the fog clearing in his mind, snapping out of it because of Jim.

Jim swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah, Bones. You did.”

“I still don’t want to know what’s in those records,” he says, shaking his head. “None of it. I _am_ a coward.”

“You’re far from being a coward,” Jim says, returning to his side. He leans over and presses his forehead against Leonard’s. “You are the bravest man I know. You’ve taught me what it is to be truly courageous.”

“Now don't you get all sappy on me,” Leonard complains, right as his doctor, neurotech, and two nurses come in behind Jim.

“I’m sorry, Agent Kirk, but I will have to ask you to leave,” the doctor says, expression kind. “We must proceed with our examination now that Agent McCoy is awake.”

Jim looks at Leo apologetically. “I have to go.”

“It’s okay,” Leo murmurs. “I understand.”

“I’ll be back later,” Jim whispers, kissing him.

Leonard sucks in a breath, grabbing Jim’s hand as he pulls way. “The video...did Joanna see it?” he asks.

Jim shakes his head. “She’s not eighteen yet, Leo. We’re waiting for your permission.”

Leonard’s certain Joanna could look at it if she wants, but Jim is right. She’s only seventeen. Three weeks shy of her birthday.

“When she’s eighteen, it’s up to her,” he decides. “Or you can tell her.”

He hopes that whatever explanation Jim decides to offer her is enough.

Jim nods, smile warm. “Okay,” he says softly. “That’s what we thought.”

 

oOo

 

Eight hours later, the inevitable therapy session with Leo finally ended. Jim wearily opens the door to the adjoining room, practically shuffling his way over to the dividing window. He’s surprised but thankful his father isn’t there to see how tired he is. George Kirk is, indeed, a mother hen when it comes to Jim. Not that he minds too much. He feels stronger now that he had his dad to lean on, and that’s what matters in the long run. The stronger he is, the more help he is to Leonard.

Shoulders hunched, he stands beside Spock. Both observe the nurses and neurotech tending to Leo during the “after care,” managing his anxiety and physical responses to breaking out of the programmed state without the command words.

It’d been brutal at the end—Leo suffering from sweats, chills, and severe body tremors—but at least he hadn’t passed out. It’s still brutal. Leonard sits in a chair, his head sagging, his body leaning forward but held back by two wide straps. He mutters a mixture of nonsensical words along with words like “Jim,” and “Joanna.” His arms and legs twitch every few seconds, as if a puppeteer still works his mind, his face dripping with perspiration.

Jim presses his forehead against the glass. “I hate doing this to him,” he whispers.

If they left the programming alone, at least he wouldn’t be unconscious or losing control of himself the way he is now.

“It is working, Jim,” Spock says. “These symptoms will pass.”

“At what cost?”

Spock glances sideways at him. “The cost of days, weeks or even months. It is not without pain and suffering, but to not proceed would be detrimental to you both. If you ignore the programming, you will never have a loving, balanced life with him, Jim.”

“I know,” he whispers. “How long…” He clears his throat. “How long do you think until we see the biggest breakthrough?”

“Now that we understand the correlation between his understanding of the name ‘Donna’ and the power the trigger words have over him, and can manipulate it appropriately, I anticipate two months.”

Jim sighs.

“It is an estimate, Jim,” Spock says softly.

“‘Donna’ hardly means anything to him now,” Jim says, shaking his head. “I can’t help but feel guilty about that. How can we exterminate his sister like that, just...steal her away from his life?”

Spock glances back at Leonard through the glass. “He would do the same for you. Do not forget, Joanna has also agreed.”

“Archer supports Joanna’s choice to search for Jocelyn.”

Spock arches a brow. “I do not believe Special Agent McCoy should be told this news at this point in time.”

“Neither do I,” Jim says with a short, dry laugh. “But it won’t happen for a few months, at least. Archer is creating a cover for her, so Leonard won’t be concerned. She’ll be spending a few months at Archer’s new California summer house in San Francisco, when she’ll really be working directly with him at the regional office.”

“Jocelyn’s last dealings do indicate she had been headed for California.” Spock pauses. “Will you help Joanna?”

As much as he wants Jocelyn behind bars, he can’t get involved. He’s vowed to care for Leonard the rest of his life, and that means ignoring the very person who’d destroyed it.

Jim shakes his head. “I can’t. Even if Leonard agrees to remain in this general area while I continue working at the office, I can’t get involved and risk his mental health. I couldn't live with myself if that happened.”

“He is a most unselfish individual,” Spock murmurs. “He will not let you leave now that you and your father are working together at the same office.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, Spock,” Jim whispers. Even if the programming is completely reversed, will the hold that he has on Leonard always exist in some form or another? Will Leonard ever think of himself over Jim ever again? “That’s what I’m worried about.”

 

 

oOo

_Three weeks later..._

 

Leonard sighs, his body naturally relaxing into Jim’s warm body behind him as they lie side-by-side on their king-sized bed. Ever since they’d discovered this was one of Leonard thoughts while he is initialized, they’ve cultivated the memory even more by sleeping in each day, giving Leonard a repetitive sequence to go through that has helped break down his programming.

Whatever the reason behind it, he enjoys these mornings. Lingering under the covers beside their open window by the lake on the western side of the facility. Breathing in the fresh, morning air. Time together after their long sessions, a respite from the exhaustion and emotional rigors that accompanies those sessions.

According to Jim and the neurotech, Leonard's progression out of the programming is going better than they’d anticipated. Sessions are still regular, but now twice a day. He has more moments of being aware of his surroundings and of Jim in this real life than he does as a programmed agent. He sees Jim—hears Jim—order him most of the time, like he’s watching through a translucent curtain. The command to initialize him is less effective each day. The command to snap out of it doesn’t work at all - he comes out of it himself, with Jim’s help. For those reasons, they believe that the end to his hellish life as a programmed agent is soon to be over.

As long as no unforeseen challenges occur between now and that one, fine day.

He nuzzles his head under Jim’s chin, and carefully tucks Jim’s heavily bandaged hand tighter around his waist. Their room at the facility was as spacious and deluxe as a five-star hotel suite. Everything they’d ever want had they been on a quiet vacation. Even a small bar and a jacuzzi that fit them both with room left over and an aid at their beck and call, not to mention a housekeeper and a nurse who stopped by frequently.

Leonard believed had it just been him, they would've been given one of the other rooms, no bar, no jacuzzi, and just one window. But since Jim now held a supervisory position and his father heads the field office, they were given all the perks. Not that he was complaining. Being the boyfriend to a Kirk had its moments—and this was one of them.

“Mmm,” Jim hums into Leonard’s hair as he finally awakened for the morning.

“‘Bout time you woke up,” he drawls.

Jim groans lightly. “I just had surgery you know, and you kept me up a little late last night.”

Leonard sighs contentedly remembering exactly why he’d made Jim stay up until two in the morning. “Up for that again?”

Jim makes a small, whiny sound in his throat. “It was torturous.”

“It was not,” he says, defending himself.

He is not sadistic or given to hurting Jim behind closed doors. Instead, he gladly gives in to his lover’s more pleasurable kinks. In this case, intense orgasm delay. It feeds both of their desires, keeps them both satisfied and longing for more.

“You liked it,” he points out.

“I did,” Jim admitted. “A little too much. I want to do it again. Maybe all day.”

“I’m not sure all day would work, but I’m sure we can tonight, Darlin’,” he drawls in satisfaction.

Jim sighs and his hand sinks lower onto Leonard’s waist. “Good.”

“I needed that, Jim,” Leonard says quietly, mulling over the scene he’d controlled, the stress that he’d relieved in the process, especially seeing the look of absolute pleasure and submission on Jim’s face at the end.

“I know,” Jim whispers. “I know things...haven’t been easy. Especially with Joanna.”

Leonard sighs. “She hasn’t been the same since we got here, clinging to me, and I get the feeling…”

“What?” Jim asks.

He takes a breath and admits what’s been on his mind ever since they’d arrived at the facility for their therapy. “I think she’s spending so much time with me because she's going to leave. Take advantage of turning eighteen today, maybe leave even tomorrow.”

He can’t say what he really thinks—which is _today_.

Emotion pricks the back of his eyes just thinking of it. His daughter, his precious little girl, on her own.

“If she does, Leo, she will be alright.”

Leonard says nothing, though he’s right to remind him of his daughter’s skill and pure grit.

“She’s a McCoy,” Jim adds. “She has you as her father.”

Leonard stares down at Jim’s hand. “How does it feel today?”

Jim had had surgery to correct the numbness in his left hand four days ago. They wanted to see the results of this surgery first, before submitting Jim to surgery on his dominant hand. The healing process takes three weeks, with a second surgery after four.

“Better,” Jim murmurs.

“Can you be more specific?” he asks. “Can you feel the gauze on your hand yet? Feel any pain from the surgery now that we backed off the medication? Tingling? Can you describe the pain?”

“I think so,” Jim says in a small voice. “I mean, feel pain. At least, in my pinkie. Maybe my ring finger.”

A smile grows on Leonard’s face. Both those fingers in his left hand had been numb. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Jim says breathlessly as he pulls Leonard closer to him.

His breath leaves in a rush. “I knew it,” he says triumphantly, reaching up to caress Jim’s jawline with his fingers. “I know we still need to take it slow, take into consideration other side effects, but I knew it would work.”

He feels Jim’s smile under his fingertips, and drags his fingers across his lips.

Jim kisses his fingers, saying softly, “You and Dad make a great team, Leo.”

“I am only a consult, Jim,” he reminds him. “But, speaking of your dad, he finally told me which surgeries he’d assisted me with at the hospital. I was surprised to learn there’d been many tedious, long hours we’d worked together in the OR. More than I expected.”

“He told you?” Jim asks surprisedly.

“I didn’t think he wanted to tell me, but I said you wanted to know, too,” he confesses.

Jim snickers. “That was sneaky.”

“Learned from the best,” he says. He pauses, twisting his neck to check the clock on their nightstand. “I have just enough time to give you the pain medication you need before breakfast—and possibly shower.”

The downside to submitting himself to therapy at the facility was the regime during the day, starting with breakfast and his own medication and a lengthy, intrusive physical examination.

“The pain isn’t that bad,” Jim protests with a yawn.

“Right,” Leonard says doubtfully. “Jim, if what you’re saying about your fingers this morning is true, we fixed the lack of sensation in your hands.”

Jim makes a small noise.

Leonard frowns and turns his body so he’s looking straight into his eyes. “Jim,” he prods gently when he sees a hint of strain in them. “Do you need that pain medication?” he asks slowly.

Jim winces, his eyes apologetic as he nods. “I lied. I think I do. Just didn't want...to bother you. I know last night was intense—even for you.”

Leonard touches his cheek and closes in for a kiss. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, slipping out from the bed as naked as the day he was born.

“You haven't stopped since we got here,” Jim says, pushing himself up on his elbows as he watches Leonard grab his boxers and pants and quickly put them on. “They’re pushing you. You’re still limping, Leo.”

That he is. “I have a little pain in my leg most days,” he admits.

Jim sucks in a breath. “Why didn’t you tell somebody? Tell _me_?”

“Pot, kettle?” he quips, glancing up and cocking a brow.

Jim collapses on his back, exhaling a rush of air. “I’m tellin’.”

Leonard rolls his eyes, walking towards the the kitchenette in their room.

“I’m serious,” Jim calls to him. “I’m going to be a tattle tale and tell.”

“And who, exactly, are you going to tell?” he mutters under his breath, pouring Jim a glass of water.

“Your doctor,” Jim says impertinently. “The cute one that watches your ass.”

“That’s meddlin’,” Leonard says in monotone, taking two pain pills from the bottle on the counter prescribed to Jim. “And she doesn't watch me…”

“Yes, she does,” he says, looking vulnerable.

Leonard turns and stares at Jim, holding his gaze. “Darlin,’” he says in a firm voice. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“She—”

“She’s going to get a new job if it’s going to bother you,” he says unblinkingly.

“She’s unprofessional. She has use of all ten fingers,” Jim adds sullenly.

Leonard suppresses a sigh, knowing that now, at a time when Jim is voicing his insecurity, is the time to practice tact.

“She is not _you_ ,” he stresses. “You have my life in your hands, remember?” he reminds him quietly.

Jim looks at him with wide eyes and nods.

“Good,” he murmurs

He turns around and grabs a second bottle of medication, one that is pain medication for himself. He opens it and taps it, jostling one pill into his hand. Hopefully, just half the dosage would be sufficient to decrease his pain without overdoing it. The last thing he wants to do now is become addicted to pain meds, a fear that he’s had ever since he’d learned he was a programmed agent.

He puts it in his mouth, taking it without water.

“Like I told you before,” he grumbles, “I’m a doctor, not a pill popper.”

“I remember,” Jim says. “But, Leo, if you need it, and it’s not making you an addict…” He pauses. “I’ll tell your daughter, then,” he adds smoothly.

Leonard spins on his heel, eyes wide. “She worries about me eno—”

His voice fades when he sees Jim’s lazy grin.

“Don’t worry,” Jim says, grinning wider. “I won’t tell her. I just wanted to get you going’. But you just took a pill, so we’re good. I don’t have to become a tattletale. Though I was willing, just for you.”

“Infant,” Leonard mutters, rolling his eyes for a second time as he walks towards him with the glass of water and meds.

Jim lifts himself up and adjusts his pillow the best he can with one operative hand.

Which is poorly.

“Here,” Leonard says quickly, setting the pills and water on the stand beside him. He fluffs Jim’s pillow, tugging at the sides and corners so it supports Jim as well.

“Thanks,” Jim breathes.

He hands Jim both pills, waiting until he puts them into his mouth before he hands him the glass of water.

The younger man swallows, but keeps his glass, staring at Leonard with a serious expression. “Dad invited us over for dinner tonight,” he says. “Joanna, too. I cleared it with both your neurotech and your doctor and they say it’s fine.”

“Oh?” Leonard says curiously. “You look a little down in the mouth, Jim. Is dinner a bad thing?”

“The divorce between him and Mom is official,” Jim admits quietly, shrugging. “Not that it makes much difference. But, Dad said he will have a date.”

Leonard’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s...sudden.”

Jim actually smiles. “I’m happy for him, given Shadow’s duplicity. His date is a nurse, twelve years younger than he is, actually, which will take a little getting used to. He met her at the hospital.” He frowns. “I don’t remember you ever working with her, though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Christine Chapel.”

Leonard immediately recalls the sweet but no-nonsense blonde who worked in Peds. “No, I never had the pleasure,” he says, then grins. “But I think you’ll like her. She’s smart, quick on her feet, and easy on the eyes. She’ll keep your dad on his toes.”

 

oOo

 

Leonard sips his water, taking in the normalcy of the evening, the dinner with George Kirk, Christine, Joanna, and Jim. He hasn’t set foot outside the facility since he got there, almost an entire month. Neither has he been able to let down his guard this much in years. In fact, he only needs to pretend to be himself. A man in love with Jim Kirk. A man who loves his daughter. A doctor by trade.

Never mind the fact that he’s still an agent.

Having much on his mind, he hasn’t talked much at all. Unsurprisingly, Jim and Joanna fill in the lulls of conversation. Sandwiched between them, he’s been amused by the wit volleying back and forth between them, even George and Christine. He feels like a fifth wheel, not that that makes any sense. Now, however, Joanna has grown too quiet. He can tell something’s on her mind, too.

They’d often been like this, ebbing and flowing as one through the years. He glances sideways at her as she finishes the rest of her piece of birthday cake, a cake which Christine had baked and decorated herself in Joanna’s favorite colors, pink and blue.

“You alright?” Jim whispers, leaning towards him.

Leonard waits a beat, until Joanna is occupied by something Christine had just asked her, before returning his attentions to Jim and giving him a smile. “Never better.”

Jim reaches under the table and rests his hand on Leonard’s knee. The weight is comforting, assuring him that he’s there for him through thick and thin. “There’s something on your mind,” he murmurs, missing nothing. “Joanna?”

He gives Jim a short nod, his heart pounding in his chest. “Maybe.”

He knows his daughter. She won’t say a word about leaving, she won’t even attempt to go out on her own, unless she knows for certain that he’ll make it through his therapy in one piece. They'd been through too much together to just part ways without knowing the other would be alright.

And tonight was the perfect opportunity to show her that he loves her enough t—

“I love you,” Jim says softly, interrupting his thoughts. “If we need to cut this short, it’s no problem. Dad would understand.”

He quickly comes back to himself. “And miss out on the cigars your Dad promised me later?” he drawls. “Hell, no.”

Jim makes a face. “I can’t believe he’s giving you cigars,” he whispers in a harsh voice.

“That makes two of us,” Leonard mutters, chuckling. He makes a silent vow that those cigars would be his last. “Jim, your Dad surprises me.”

“Yeah,” Jim says quietly. “He’s like that.”

“Would you like more cake, Leonard?” Christine asks, drawing their attention back to the others.

If he were to be honest with her, he’d request two more slices. But, he hasn't been working out like he used to and he didn't want to become a sloth. “No thank you, ma’am. But it was delicious.”

Her lips sweep into a smile. “Leonard, call me Christine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leonard says.

She cocks her head, her eyes dancing. “You’ve known me for years, Leonard. You know you don’t have to be so formal with me, just because I’m Jim’s father’s date.”

Leonard inclines his head towards her. “For those reasons exactly, ma’am, I must be formal. Colleague or not, you are my boyfriend's father’s date.”

Jim sighs contentedly beside him. “I’m dating a true Southern gentleman.”

George looks fondly at Jim. “I’m so glad you’re happy, son,” he says in a soft voice. “You two were made for each other. I imagine if there were other universes, you’d find each other there, too. I have never seen two people more in love.”

A blush rises on Jim’s cheeks. “Dad…”

“It’s true,” Christine's says, nodding. “I’ve never seen the two of you together before, but now that I have, I have to agree.”

“I have to agree, too,” Leonard says quietly.

And before anyone could say how strange that was for him to say, he stands up with his glass in hand. “I’d like to make a toast,” he says, drawing all eyes to him. He takes a breath, slowly releasing it as he turns to look down at Joanna.

He can’t speak for a moment, loses his words, all that he’d wanted to say flying out the window. She’s spirited, young, and intelligent, everything that the agency needs. One day, she’ll come back to him. But today, on her eighteenth birthday, he has to let her go.

He swallows thickly and smiles tremulously down at her. She stares up at him, liquid pooling in her eyes, as if she knows exactly what he’s going to do.

“Joanna,” he says as steadily as he can. “You are my darling daughter turned beautiful young woman. You’ve always been meant for more than I could ever give you. It’s time that you carve out your own path...”

A tear escapes from the corner of his eye. Jim reaches up and grasps his free hand, squeezing it.

He takes a breath. “Without worrying about what—who—you’re leaving behind,” he whispers.

“Dad,” she says breathlessly.

He shakes his head at her. “No, sweetheart. This is your time, and you shouldn't be worrying about me. I’ll be fine, as long as I have your Uncle Jim. And he’s too damn worried about me and my cigar addiction to leave me alone, so you have nothing to fear.”

There are a few chuckles around the table, including Joanna’s.

“I love you,” she mouths.

His eyes soften on her. “I promise you that I will be at peace, knowing that you are experiencing life to it’s fullest, wherever it is that you are planning to go. I love you, sweetheart.” He pauses and lifts his glass. “To Joanna and the grand adventure ahead of her.”

“To Joanna,” Jim echoes, his dad and Christine chiming in as well.

After they drink, Jim sets down his glass and tugs at Leonard’s arm. He jerks his head towards the French doors off the dining room. “Care to catch some fresh air with me?”

He doesn't have much of a choice. Jim practically drags him out of the room and onto the small balcony, pressing him against the wall once the doors close behind them. Jim kisses him fully on the lips, giving Leonard no room to protest or move, for that matter. The action leaves him breathless. He’s dazed as Jim pulls away.

His lover’s eyes fill with fire, a fire of a different kind than he’s ever seen, its intensity taking him by surprise.

“Now, tell me what is going on with you,” Jim demands, not giving him an inch to move.

Leonard blinks slowly at him. “What’s going on? I believe you’re seducing me, that’s what.”

Jim snorts. “Funny. No, I mean...something’s gotten into you.”

“I’m going to miss her,” he says honestly.

“I know,” Jim says in a quiet voice. “But it’s not that.”

He steps away, but it’s not enough for Leonard to breathe easily, not that he minds. He briefly closes his eyes, relishing the sexual tension between them.

“I’ll miss her, too,” Jim says hoarsely. “The way she always brings life to your heart, the way only a daughter can.”

Leonard looks straight into his eyes. “Things will be different when she’s gone, but you bring the life in my heart, Jim. Never doubt that.”

“They will be different,” Jim agrees, pressing closer. He caresses his cheek, eyes roaming his face. “I promise that I’ll take care of you. Beyond what this therapy takes. Beyond...anything that comes our way.”

“Even if that something is….” Leonard hesitates, now wondering if he was foolish in his decisions.

“Leo,” Jim says, his eyes wide and earnest. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything you have to say to me.”

“I’ve been doing some thinkin’,” he admits. “About what I want to do with my life.”

Jim’s eyes fill with anticipation. “You have?”

“A little,” he says, immediately wincing when he realizes how selfish that sounds. “Sorry I haven’t told you—”

Jim’s eyes widen more. “No, please,” he says quickly. “Don’t apologize. I want you to think about...I mean, we _all_ want you to think about what you want to do.”

Leonard nods. “Alright. Well, here goes nothin’,” he drawls. “I want to retire from the agency and start a family practice so you can stay and work with your father. But mostly because I want to help people. Kids. Families.”

Jim’s mouth drops open. “You...you do?”

Leonard blinks at him, his happiness dwindling. “Hell, I guess it’s a stupid idea. I mean me and programmed agent and family practice don’t really mi—”

“Fuck, I’m crazy about the idea,” Jim says, grinning at him.

Leonard inhales sharply. “Wait. You are?”

“Yeah,” Jim beams. “So you really want to do that?”

Does he ever... “Yes,” he says with relief that it’s finally off his chest. “I do. I’d turn in my badge today, if I could. If they’d let me.”

Jim pulls him forward and wraps his arms around him like an octopus. Leonard wants to laugh at Jim’s earnestness, his childlike embrace, but swallows the laughter down, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“I can’t believe you’re not upset,” he murmurs in disbelief, still concerned that he has horrible timing. “I’m leaving the agency just when your father’s returned. When you’ll need agents you can trust.”

“Leo, is this what you want?” Jim whispers in his ear.

“I don’t want to set foot in an FBI office ever again,” he admits.

Jim pulls away, his eyes smiling. “And you don’t have to. Not even to have lunch with me.”

Leonard cocks his head. “Never realized how sexy that would sound until you just said it. Or how tempting it makes you.”

Jim’s eyes glaze over. “Unless, y-you w-ant to,” he stammers.

Leonard’s mouth twitches at the corners. “I might just surprise you someday.”

Jim blinks at him.

“Well, Jim, I’ve enjoyed this time with your father, with Joanna,” he drawls. “But I think it’s time we head...home.”

The word ‘home’ snaps Jim out of it. His brow creases. “Home, huh?”

It might not be the ideal ‘home,’ but it’s comfortable when he’s not in therapy. It’s a safe place, safer because of Jim.

“You’re there with me, aren’t you?” Leonard asks him softly.

Jim smiles, taking him by the hand. “Yeah, I am, Leo. Always,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the last official "chapter." Only the epilogues are left...
> 
> A couple of notes... 
> 
> I realize this chapter doesn't explain the content in Joanna's video - I could be saving that for the epilogue. Also, I know it's a little risky for Leonard to stick around and start a family practice, sooooo...maybe just run with me on that one, okay? Jocelyn "is" elsewhere and I've left that part of their lives open on purpose...for other one-shots, etc., that I may want to write for this verse. 
> 
> Did you notice I said "epilogues? Yes...there are more than one. There are actually two, the second of which is "optional," but I recommend reading it and adding it to the headcanon of this verse. This has been a twisty story...who knows what will happen. :)
> 
> Please... review? I always appreciate hearing what you think about the story and love the inspiration that comes from your comments. ;d
> 
> Thank you to all who've hung around on the crazy fic! I've appreciated your support and comments and encouragement so, so much. This particular Leonard and Jim really grew on me. And their story literally drove me - hounded me - until I wrote it. Stay tuned for the rest. I hope to post the ending(s) by this weekend! Until then...


	20. Epilogue 1: Yesterday Is Long Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end is near...
> 
> Thank you, Diamondblue4 and Junker5! You both are such sweethearts. I'm so appreciative of the time and energy you've put into betaing this installment. *HUGS*
> 
> Thank you to all of you who've been reading and commenting this entire time - I'm so grateful for the support. I hope you enjoy the first of two epilogues. :)

  _Six and a half months later..._

 

Casually perched on the edge of Spock’s desk, Jim tosses a wadded piece of paper across the room. It ricochets off the far wall and plunks into the wastebasket below it. He crumples a second sheet and throws it directly into the basket. A third is another perfect shot.

At this rate, he’ll take care of Spock’s pile of scrap paper in no time.

He happily wads up another scrap piece of paper.

“Please desist,” Spock says in monotone, not looking up from his desk.

“Aw, come on, Spock,” Jim says, smirking as he throws his fourth basket. “It’s fun.”

“I insist.”

The fifth one barely makes it into the basket.

“You should try it, yourself. I promise it’s entertaining,” Jim says. “Takes the mind off things. Well, except for paper and a wastebasket. And throwing.”

“I prefer to place my used paper in the recycle bin,” Spock says pointedly.

“That’s very noble of you,” Jim muses. “I imagine you recycle everything you can.”

“Indeed.” Spock glances up from his work. “Nyota will contact you once her meeting has ended. She will not go back on her word.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Jim asks with a grin.

The lifted brow hikes to the ceiling. “Never. Now, please remove yourself from my desk and place the remaining pile in the appropriate container.”

Jim grins wider. “Since you asked so nicely…”

He slips off the desk and does as Spock asks of him. He turns around, scratching the back of his head. He has a million things to do at his own desk, but for the past week he’s been so busy he hasn’t been able to visit with Spock. And now that one of the biggest decisions he’s ever made is about to stare him in the face, he needs someone to help him calm his nerves.

“Do you think...he’ll like the surprise?” Jim asks, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I believe you would know the answer to that question better than anyone,” Spock murmurs, signing his name to a file.

Jim absently twirls the ring on his left hand. “Yes, you're right.” He looks at his watch and tries not to sigh. “Her meeting was hours ago. Three, to be exact.”

“It is my understanding that despite the ‘strings’ your father pulled, these things take time,” Spock says gently. “And given how quickly you discovered her, not much time has passed.”

“It isn’t safe for her,” Jim says quietly.

When Spock says nothing, he takes a sixth sheet of paper, this one from the printer, and crumples it in his right hand, relishing the fact that he can actually crumple a piece of paper at all. Although the first surgery he’d had for his left hand had been a complete success, the surgery on his right had not.

He still doesn’t have feeling in his fourth finger or part of his palm, which has sidelined him from anything remotely dangerous, anything involving guns. Given the supervisory nature of his job, it hasn’t impacted him too much. Bones is certain his condition can be reversed entirely, that they only need time. His father agrees. Jim doesn’t want to submit himself to more surgeries, not until they know for sure. If he can manage with what he has now, that surpasses the risks involved in further operations on his hand. It’s not the choice that Bones or George prefers Jim to make, but it is his own. At least, for now.

“I have a gift or you,” Spock says suddenly.

Jim looks at him in surprise. Spock pulls out his top desk drawer. He takes out a wrapped box and sets it in the middle of his desk.

“For me?” Jim asks, feeling a flash of warmth for his friend. “It’s not even my birthday.”

“It does not have to be one’s birthday in order to receive a gift,” Spock says primly.

“True,” Jim says with a smile, taking the gift in his hand. “Should I open it now?”

Spock nods. Jim undoes the ribbon and scratches at the paper until it’s peeling. He tears it off and opens the box.

He looks down at the gift, chuckling. “Just what I need.”

He pulls out the Silly Putty and immediately begins working it with his right hand. In just a few seconds, his entire hand is working it into a ball, and he sees that the process will help strengthen his weaker, numbed finger and other parts of his hand.

“Therapy,” he says with satisfaction. “Right at my desk. Or...yours, I guess.”

Spock’s eyes smile though he does not. “Now, you will leave my paper alone.”

Jim snorts. “So this was about you, not me? Your paper fetish?” he teases.

Spock leans back in his chair. There is a light in his eyes that comes whenever he is teasing him like he is now. “I prefer to say it was a mutual investment.”

The putty molds to his hand. “Thank you, “ he says quietly. “This is a thoughtful gift. Leo will like it.”

Spock nods.

“Well, looks like you have company,” Jim says, hearing the knob of the door turning behind him. “I better get back to my work, anyway. You’ll tell me if you hear from Uhura?”

“Ye-” The word dies on Spock’s lips and his gaze softens as he looks behind Jim. “I don’t believe she will be calling you, after all. Turn around, Jim.”

Jim knows as soon as he spins on his heel and sees the three visitors standing in Spock’s office that he’d made the right decision.

A smile grows on his face, his heart lighter than it has been for years. He first looks at Uhura, his emotions tightly wound in his chest. He feels like pinching himself. Ever since Joanna had left, a hole had been left in Leo’s heart, big enough for Jim—for others—to see.

“It’s happening,” he says hoarsely. “Really happening. I can never repay you. You’re a miracle worker.”

“No, Jim,” Uhura says, voice tender as she looks down at her smallest companion. “It was just meant to be.”

 

oOo

 

“He needs to take this twice a day for two weeks,” Leonard murmurs as he finishes typing and sending the prescription to the local pharmacy Mrs. Harper prefers. “If the infection doesn’t clear up, please call the office.”

“May I have a Popsicle, Doctor McCoy?” his young patient, Colin, interrupts. “Since I didn't cry?”

“Shh,” his mother quickly hushes him.

Leonard closes his computer and chuckles, ruffling Colin’s hair. “It’s alright, Mrs. Harper,” he assures her, then turns back to his small patient. “Christine will give you a Popsicle, just like she gives each child one, whether or not they cry. You are all very brave.”

The boy smiles. “I like red best.”

“So do I,” he agrees lightly as they walk out of the room.

Christine is there at Colin’s side in an instant, leading the boy to a small refrigerator. Leonard stops and watches, grateful that Christine had been willing to leave her job at the hospital and come work for him and the real Geoffrey M’Benga at this small, family practice. Her presence has made all the difference, adding a warmth to their office that wouldn’t be there otherwise.

“We might have to take one of the red Popsicles from Doctor McCoy’s stash,” she whispers conspiratorially in Colin’s ear. “So we better work fast before he sees us.”

The boy giggles.

“Thank you, Doctor McCoy,” Mrs. Harper says in a hushed voice, also watching her son from afar. “He’s scared of every other doctor but you and Doctor M’Benga. You are the first office to truly take notice of him.”

“He’s a good kid,” Leonard says honestly. And he was, today more controlled than usual despite being sick. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well in school, despite this small setback.”

“It hasn’t been easy for him, missing all this time, but he is getting good marks in all his classes,” she says proudly.

Leonard smiles. “Good to hear.”

Mrs. Harper looks hesitantly at him. “You have a daughter, I heard?”

He hesitates. “Yes,” he says. His voice is normal, despite the ache in his heart. “She’s visiting with friends of the family.”

He hasn’t seen her in in months, not since the day she'd left. But she’s called him every other week, and that has to be enough for him. He had let her go. Given her her wings. Wings she’s using, if her silence was any indication.

He won’t deny that he’s worried. Strangely enough, Jim isn’t. At least, he appears to be taking her absence well. But he’s learned that he has to take his cues from him when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. What he’d said to Jim is true—he holds Leonard's life in his hands. He won’t trust anyone else with it. Without Jim, he’s sure he wouldn't survive. He wouldn’t be in the place he is now—a calm, happy place, as hokey as it sounds.

“I imagine she’s just as kind as you are,” the woman says.

“She’s kind and beautiful,” he say softly. “I miss her.” He gives her a small smile. “But that’s what our children do. They grow up.”

Mrs. Harper nods, expression thoughtful. “Spoken like a true father,” she says.

Colin comes over to his mother and leans against her, expression full of contentedness as he sucks on his red Popsicle.

“Thank you, again, Doctor McCoy,” she says, preparing to leave. “It looks like we’re the last ones—I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“Thank you,” he says with a nod. He winks at Colin. “That’s from my stash, isn’t it? Caught ya red-handle, didn’t I?”

Colin’s giggles echoed throughout the office even after they left.

Leonard smiles to himself. That kid is a handful, but his heart is in the right place.

“Why don’t you go home, Leo. I’ll take care of things tonight,” Geoffrey says coming up beside him. “You’ve had a busy week, taking over for me for three days.”

“I think I’ll take you up on the offer, Geoff,” Leonard says, sighing.

He hasn’t seen Jim all week, not really. If he were lucky, Jim would get home earlier than usual, too.

“Married life looks good on you, by the way,” Geoff says, grinning. He slaps him on the shoulder. “Go home.”

Leonard lifts a brow. “Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me,” he jokes.

“Listen,” Geoff says, smirking. “If I were a betting man, I think Jim is actually going to walk through those doors any minute.”

“Jim? Here?” Leonard shook his head. As nice as that would be, it's too to be true. “His schedule is way too busy for him to—”

The words stuck in his throat when a moving shadow caught his eyes. Standing before him was, indeed, Jim.

“Hey, Bones,” he says, giving him a sexy, crooked grin.

“To what do I owe this honor?” he grumbles.

Jim’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the crows feet that appear, two of the places on Jim Kirk that he loves to kiss. “Do I have to have a reason to come here?”

“You gotta admit, it’s been awhile,” he says, allowing Jim to take his hand.

Jim sighs, looking guilty. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. You’ve come to my office for lunch twice. I should reciprocate.”

“You know I don’t keep score,” Leonard admonishes him. “I say those things to rile you.”

“Just for that, maybe I’ll go home without telling you why I’m here.”

Sensing something— _something_ —behind those words, Leonard freezes. “Is it Jo? Is it your dad? You?” he asks hurriedly, placing his hand on Jim’s shoulder and checking him over, up and down.

“No,” Jim says softly. “Look behind me. Tell me what you see, Leo.”

Heart fluttering, Leonard looks beyond Jim’s shoulder. His eyes take in two people at once. Uhura, her eyes shining with tears and a small child with blonde hair and eyes like Jim’s, holding her hand.

Jim leans into him, brushing against his shoulder. “She’s a six-year-old angel, isn’t she? And ours, if it’s okay with you,” he whispers.

He doesn’t know if he can breathe. “Ours?”

He’s slow to catch on, he thinks. But he tries. He’s still far too damaged, isn’t he?

“Leo, you passed all the tests,” Jim says, giving him a knowing look, a reminder that he is no longer a programmed agent. “You passed four months ago. You’ve had more therapy. So have I. You have a successful practice. You’re stable. You’re already a wonderful father. This is our chance.”

Leonard blinks, more shock coursing through his body. “Jim…” he says, voice breaking as he realizes all that Jim is saying to him.

_Our chance._

They’d talked about taking in a child through Witness Protection, their connections and experience an obvious advantage to helping someone. He looks at the smallest visitor again, and his breath catches. She looks like the girl from his dreams, the one who’d depended upon him long ago. The one he’d almost forgotten, save for the imprint she’d left upon his memory.

Jim takes two steps to get the child and holds out his hand to her. She doesn’t think twice but let's go of Uhura’s hand and grasps Jim’s hand firmly, instead. They walk together back to Leonard.

Jim’s smile is laced with tears, just like Uhura’s. “She needs a home right away, Leo.”

He wants it to be true. With his whole heart he does. His head and heart in the clouds, he bends down so that he’s eye level with her.

“Hello, darlin’,” Leonard says softly. “What's your name?”

“Josie,” she whispers.

He stares up at Jim in disbelief. Jim smiles down at him, nodding.

“It’s true,” he confirms. “She got to choose between two new names. Amber Christine—or Joleyne Sue. She liked Joleyne Sue, but it came out Josie. She also likes...Jo.”

It’s adorable and endearing—and almost too good to be true.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Josie,” Leonard says, emotion thick in his throat. “I’m…”

If what Jim had said is true, then he is her new father.

It’s almost too much to grasp, too much to take in, the hole in his heart that Joanna’s absence had created reaching out for this comfort. He doesn’t know what to say and looks up at Jim, his lifeline.

Jim meets his gaze, communicating the answer with his expressive, bright eyes. This dream...this dream of theirs _is_ now.

Leonard sucks in a sharp breath and looks at Josie.

“Your new father,” he says breathlessly, barely getting it out before he’s choked up all over again.

She smiles shyly, a beautiful, engaging smile like the ghost of a girl he once knew.

He holds out his arms and Josie rushes into them. When he folds his arms around her, she fits into his arms perfectly. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he remembers his other daughter, who might as well be on the other side of the world.

He cries softly into her hair. Jim— _his Jim_ —is right.

This sweet, little girl is an angel.

 

oOo

 

_One week later…_

Joanna rushes out of her apartment complex and nearly trips on the last step, her purse straps slipping from her shoulder to entangle her feet.

A hand catches her before she falls, face first, on the ground.

“Easy, there,” a man is saying in her ear, his voice filled with laughter.

She should be grateful. Her job at the bank demands a flawless appearance, not one marred with a black eye or bruises littering her face. But she’s already on edge.

“It’s not funny,” she snaps, straightening and trying to regain her dignity.

However, with her purse strap still wrapped around her ankle, she can hardly straighten her body at all.

“I don’t know how you manage to trip yourself up so much, Kate,” the man says, bending down and gently grasping her ankle. “Here, allow me.”

“You’re not giving me much choice, Kevin,” Joanna mutters darkly, tossing her long blonde hair.

“Nope,” Kevin says, smirking up at her.

He takes too long, his hand lingering on her leg well after the purse is disengaged from her body.

She huffs a sigh. “You can let go now, Riley. You’re going to make me late.”

“Not unless you agree to a date.”

It’s the ultimatum that she’s been expecting. She should say yes because he’s a nice guy and a gentleman. He’s also an outdoorsman of sorts, running his own landscaping business. On the other hand, she should say no because they’re both under cover and the last thing she wants to do is go on a fake date with a co-worker. She has to say yes because this is all part of the plan. He needs to be with her the evening they crash Jocelyn’s dinner engagement at the finest Italian restaurant in town next week.

“Fine,” she mutters.

He lets go of her ankle and pulls himself up to his full height. He’s tall, like Jim. He’s cute, more than cute, although she has to deny it to keep her feelings under control. He’s a lot of things she has to deny to keep her head on straight.

She hasn’t come this far only to be distracted by a man. She busies herself with her phone, grateful that she does have a new message from her “father” to occupy herself with.

“Next week?” Kevin asks, crossing his arms.

She opens the message from her father, suddenly sagging against the railing of the steps.

“Hey, you alright?” Kevin asks worriedly, catching her again.

“I’m…” She blinks at the image, a sweet family photograph. It’s the second time they’d sent her a picture of Josie, but it’s the first one of Josie with her father and also Jim.

And it’s beautiful. Perfect. All that she’s wanted for them.

Kevin moves as if he’s going to peer over her shoulder and into the phone. She quickly commits the family photo to memory and deletes it before Kevin, or anyone else in the future, can see it.

“Gotta run,” she says, snapping her phone shut. She pulls out of his grasp and makes for the parking lot behind the apartment complex.

“What about the date?” Kevin calls after her.

She turns around, smiling her most endearing smile for him. “Next week, if you can manage to scrub all the dirt out from under your nails.”

Kevin lifts a brow, unamused. “You don’t think I can clean up?”

She really doesn’t want to even consider it, because then her heart will be in more trouble than it already is.

She hesitates, more for show. Cameras are everywhere, especially on her. She works at Pearson and Sons Financial, and has, so far, waited only once on Jocelyn, who is now going by the name Anna Slade. But one time would be enough for Jocelyn to dig up all that she can about “Kate Deans.”

Now looking nothing like her former self, she has all the confidence she needs, experience and pain also on her side. Archer still couldn’t believe she’d placed herself right in the line of fire, but so far, all has gone as planned. One of these days she’d have Jocelyn eating out of her hand. Thanks to all the unwritten notes her father had taken of Jocelyn during his time living with her and then shared with her, she knows Jocelyn almost as well as she knows herself.

She twists her bottom lip between her teeth. “Well…”

Kevin sighs. “I know you’ve got a thing for sophistication and class, that you can’t stand the thought of even getting your body parts pierced—”

“Kevin,” she hisses.

“—but this is going too far. I do have class, too, you know.”

She lifts her chin. “Prove it, and I’ll let you take me on a second date.”

He suddenly grins, looking more handsome than ever. “You’re on.”

He abruptly turns on his heel and shoves his hands in his pockets, whistling without a care in the world.

Essentially ignoring her.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters.

She sticks her tongue out at his back and walks away. When she’s in her car, she types a message back to her father.

While she types, she thinks of his sacrifice as she always does. He’d agreed to the programming because he’d wanted to help the men Chris had incorrectly programmed, saving them after proving Shadow knew what to do to fix their minds, by becoming her Guinea pig.

But there was more to it than just that.

He’d agreed because an unknown man named Q had approached Shadow and threatened Joanna’s life and a second daughter that Leonard could possibly have if he did not undergo the conditioning. Q had also given Shadow something in return, liquid in a vial that would give life to another man. But only after Leonard McCoy had agreed to become a programmed agent.

Joanna leans back against the seat of the car, breathing deeply.

She believes that Josie is this second daughter. She thinks that this “other man” is Jim. She half-suspects that Q is not from this world. She has no doubt that Q has had the power to threaten and manipulate someone else.

The next question is one that has plagued her for months. Simply put... _who_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'd absolutely love to hear from you! It's been quite the adventure. :)
> 
> If you are satisfied with this ending, feel free to stop now and apply this to your headcanon of this verse. But if you want more, you are quite welcome to read Epilogue 2, which is more or less an alternative in ADDITION to this one. :) It will definitely shake things up... 
> 
> A few notes about Epilogue #1/the story in general...
> 
> I never explained how Jim was revived...deliberately leaving the mystery threaded throughout the fic. This epilogue 'does' explain it...to a point.
> 
> The love Leonard has for his "daughter" has come full circle. It was my vision to bring a new child into the lives of Jim and Leonard...someone very similar to his sister, the child in his dreams that he now hardly recalls, b/c of the deprogramming. The void is filled and they are greatly comforted. :)
> 
> Yes, you saw a little of Kevin Riley at the end. Joanna is happy for Jim and Leonard (and Josie), and not in the least bit envious. She is moving on, going her own way.
> 
> And...Q. He's a shifty character, what can I say. 
> 
> I'd love to continue from this point with one or two one-shots. :)
> 
> If you are a brave soul..by all means continue to the next and final part of this story...


	21. Epilogue 2: Yesterday Is Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The VERY end, if you so choose to add more to your 'headcanon' for this verse. It's twisty. Read with an open mind. :) 
> 
> Thank you Diamondblue4 and Junker5 for offering support and beta skills and encouragement throughout this story - I'm so grateful to you both, that you braved this journey with me. *HUGS*

 

The screen fades to black.

Q crosses his legs and swivels in his chair. The man behind him is sad and angry. And rightly so. Q had not done what he’d promised, not that he was under any obligation to keep his promises.

As usual, he’s done... _more_.

The man glares at him.

He’s used to those expressions after all these centuries and merely shakes his head. “I saved your son’s life, didn’t I?” he defends himself.

“You tortured them!” the man says through clenched teeth.

That was an exaggeration, in his opinion.

“Some things had to stay the same,” Q interrupts, but not as calmly as he would have liked.

He considers the duration of McCoy’s mission, living under the roof of an abusive woman, which had been a terrible miscalculation on his own part. He’d not expected this Jocelyn to be so cruel. For that very reason the programming had become necessary, keeping things in balance, warding off the worse of the mental and emotional aftermath Leonard would be forced to endure. He considers Jim’s painful death, his sheer determination to succeed in the face of more suffering, his anguish and heartbreak upon learning his father-figure had murdered him. He considers Spock, who’d shouldered more than anyone would ever know, because Spock is a humble man and fiercely loves his friends, wanting to protect them from any knowledge of his own pain.

Maybe the man’s accusation isn’t an exaggeration, after all.

“What things?” the man hisses. “What things?”

“As in other universes, James T. Kirk had to die.” He pauses. “And Leonard McCoy had to bring him back to life.”

There were other things, but he named only two. This man’s temper is short tonight.

The man had usually looked warmly upon Jim, McCoy, and Spock in their natural world. He shouldn’t be surprised that his eyes are cold when he looks at him. In most humans’ eyes, he is nothing more than a manipulator. A torturer.

They do not know nor do they understand his higher cause.

“You did more than that,” the man accuses, standing. He points his finger at him, infuriated. “You toyed with their lives. Broke Jim’s heart. Nearly ruined Jim’s hands. Forced Leonard into an impossible situation, nearly destroying him. Crushed his heart when he thought Jim was dead. Dead!”

The man’s chest heaves, his eyes wide, almost crazed. Q can’t blame him for this, either. He’s kept him in an unlikely environment, one much warmer than he’s used to. And alone. Very alone.

“They’re stronger now,” Q argues, frowning. “You, of all people, can understand the need for stronger men and women in Starfleet.”

That pushes a button.

“But they aren’t in Starfleet, are they?” the man says, expression incredulous. “They are not who they used to be or even could be. But had you just kept them here, then your argument would be relevant.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Q says reluctantly. He misses them here, too. He rather likes them in their natural setting. He narrows his eyes. “Perhaps I should change things again.”

The man pales. “Please _don’t_. I’ve seen what you do when you like to ‘change things,” he pleads on their behalf. “Leave things the way they are. Jim has his father, has his Bones. Leonard finally has peace and a family he loves and who dearly loves him back. Spock is happy and content. Please. If you have any heart at all, leave them alone.”

Q is surprised by his vehemence. He knows how much this man loves them. “And your wife, Admiral Pike?”

Pike looks at him with a forced, blank expression. “What about her?”

“She’s in quite the predicament.”

“That is on you,” Chris says through clenched teeth. “You made her hate me.”

“She hates the you from a mirror world,” Q points out.

“Does it matter?” Pike challenges. “She hates me—any me. Then, you made her fall in love with my best friend. What could you do to possibly fix that?”

Q thinks quickly. “Numerous things.”

“No,” Pike says, turning his back to Q. “Maybe someday, her methods and actions can be understood. Maybe someday, George will accept her, if it doesn’t work out with Christine.”

“Do you really want that to happen?” Q asks, genuinely curious. Personally, he liked George with Christine.

Pike’s shoulders stiffen. “I want to know why you went back and saved my life in the first place.”

“It doesn’t seem fair that you usually have to die, right when Jim needs you in his life,” Q says simply. “With you alive, and kept here in your own world, it enabled me to bring George back. As you asked me to, may I remind you. I wanted to watch them endure despite the obstacles their new world brought their way.”

Pike’s shoulders shake, a sound a near sob. Q steps back in surprise that the man has chosen now of all times to fall apart. He’s had an entire lifetime to do it, but waits until this very moment.

He makes a rash decision because of it. “They must see that you are alive.”

Pike wipes his sleeve across his eyes and looks hollowly at him. “No,” he says hoarsely. “You’ve had your fun. How could that possibly do anything good for them?”

“They must know the truth about you,” Q murmurs. “I’ll bring them back, bring Starfleet out of stasis in your world.”

“What?” Pike asks, spinning on his heel, his expression confused.

Again, rightly so. He has many tricks and skills, and putting Starfleet in stasis in their natural world, for a time, had been one of his greatest challenges. Not only that, but just by acting in this manner, he’s created another alternate universe. Nothing will ever be the same, not even when he brings them back for good.

“But I can’t bring everyone back,” he muses. “Sacrifices must be made.”

“After all of that, you’re going to bring them back here?” Pike asks, expression tormented like never before. “Do you like toying with us?”

“It’s necessary,” Q acknowledges truthfully.

Despite his weariness, Pike gracefully takes a seat, his head falling into his hands.

Q quietly watches. He respects this man and the others. Maybe he has gone too far, but good will come from it. It will just take more time for him to see. For them all to see.

“Too bad McCoy is deprogrammed,” he says nonchalantly. “The Enterprise crew could use their good doctor in his programmed state on a future mission.”

Chris freezes. “No... _please_. They’re happy.”

“And are you?” Q asks bluntly. “I meant for you to be.”

Pike glances up, his eyes red and weary. “My life doesn’t matter—it never has, contrary to your belief. But theirs does. They’re happy, and to undo all this would belittle their experiences, proving that all of their suffering has been for nothing.”

“Who said anything about erasing their past?” Q interrupts. “Or all that they’ve experienced? As I said before, these experiences makes them stronger. I provided a situation that strengthened their hearts and bodies, the same as if they’d remained here.”

“Please. _Don’t_.”

Q closes his eyes, breathes deeply. Of course Pike would rather they remain happy, but they did not belong in that world. Others did, but not Jim. Not Leonard. Not Spock. A few others would come home with them, as well. But a few must remain.

“Too late,” he says. “They’ve returned, though they don’t yet remember their former lives. If they follow my clues to what they just lost, they’ll find you, too. And maybe then they’ll remember.”

“What they lost?” Pike asks, eyes pained. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he says quietly.

“What did they lose?” Pike demands to know.

Q clasps his hands behind his back. “I promise you, things will be balanced once more. They will return to their duties on their ship. But I shall warn you, so you can warn them. Balance will come, but not without sacrifice, my friend.”

“What did they lose?” Pike asks passionately, tears filling his eyes.

He has cause to worry, but Q will never let harm come to what they lost.

“I promise you, she will be kept safe and happy while they search.” Q motions to the screen. “You might even see her before they do.”

A beautiful but small face appears before their eyes, the child’s sweet smile frozen in time.

Chris inhales sharply. “Josie,” he whispers.

“Not _what_ did they lose, Admiral Pike,” Q clarifies softly. “ _Who_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. :)
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this final installment! I cannot thank you all enough for reading, commenting, and giving kudos. Those things make a difference for a writer and since this was such a twisty fic, it means even that much more to me that you stuck around. THANK YOU.
> 
> I'm personally in a much different/better place than I was when I first began this story. This was cathartic for me, a story that literally drove me to write it. It's my hope to write more in this verse, a short fic or various one shots stemming from either Epilogue 1 or Epilogue 2. This ending definitely leaves things open for more - I do want Jim and Leonard to find their Josie. And now with the real Pike in the picture (if you chose this alternative ending to the story) and the knowledge that Leonard, Jim, and a few others are from our beloved Star Trek universe, things will get very interesting. I debated Epilogue 2 since the very first chapter of this fic - venturing into "Q-land," so to speak, is a little intimidating. :D
> 
> Please feel free to follow me on tumblr [arrowinthesky](http://arrowinthesky.tumblr.com), where I do post writing updates/content relating to fics. I will follow back!
> 
> Again, thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you. :) I truly hope you've enjoyed this story.


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